€  Arctic 


Ernest  f hompson  Scton 


l^ 


The  Arctic  Prairies 


A  C&noc  -Journey 

OF  2,000  MUGS  IN  JCARCH 
OF  TH6  CARIBOU 

8eiNG  TH6  ACCOUNT  OF 
AV0YA66  TO  TH6  RCG10M 
NORTH   OF  AYLMCR  LAK6 


By  Ernest  Thompson  Seton 

Author  of  ""Wild  Animals  I  Have  Known?  "UfeHistoricsTCtc 


PUBUSHED.BY-CHARLES  SCRIBNERS  SONS-  NEW  YORK  CITY-  AD  -1920 


First  Edition 
First  Impression 

November  16.  1911 
Second  Impression 

February  26.   1912 


New  Uniform  Edition 
First  Impression 

August  18.   1917 

Second  Impression 

May  24.  1920 


Copyright,   1911,  by 
Ernest  Thompson  Seton 


DEDICATED 
TO 

THE    RIGHT    HONOURABLE 

SIR   WILFRID    LAURIER,  G.  C.  M.G. 

PREMIER    OF   CANADA 


PREFACE 

What  young  man  of  our  race  would  not  gladly  give 
a  year  of  his  life  to  roll  backward  the  Bcroll  of  time  for 
five  decades  and  live  that  year  in  the  romantic  by- 
gone days  of  the  Wild  West ;  to  sec  the  great  Missouri 
while  the  Buffalo  pastured  on  its  banks,  while  big  game 
teemed  in  sight  and  the  red  man  roamed  and  hunted, 
unchecked  by  fence  or  hint  of  white  man's  rule;  or, 
when  that  rule  was  represented  only  by  scattered  trad- 
ing-posts, hundreds  of  miles  apart,  and  at  best  the 
traders  could  exchange  the  news  by  horse  or  canoe 
and  months  of  lonely  travel? 

I,  for  one,  would  have  rejoiced  in  tenfold  payment 
for  the  privilege  of  this  backward  look  in  our  age,  and 
had  reached  the  middle  life  before  I  realised  that,  at  a 
much  less  heavy  cost,  the  miracle  was  possible  to-day. 

For  the  uncivilised  Indian  still  roams  the  far  reaches 
of  absolutely  unchanged,  unbroken  forest  and  prairie 
leagues,  and  has  knowledge  of  white  men  only  in  bar- 
tering furs  at  the  scattered  trading-posts,  where  loco- 
motive and  telegraph  are  unknown;  still  the  wild 
Buffalo  elude  the  hunters,  fight  the  Wolves,  wallow. 
wander,  and  breed;  and  still  there  is  hoofed  game  by 
the  million  to  be  found  where  the  Saxon  is  as  seldom 
seen  as  on  the  Missouri  in  the  times  of  Lewis  and 
Clarke.  Only  we  must  seek  it  all,  not  in  the  West, 
but  in  the  far  North-west;  and  for  "Missouri  and 
Mississippi"  read  "Peace  and  Maekenzie  River-," 
those  noble  streams  that  northward  roll  their  mile- 


vi  PREFACE 

wide  turbid  floods  a  thousand  leagues  to  the  silent 
Arctic  Sea. 

This  was  the  thought  which  spurred  me  to  a  six- 
months'  journey  by  canoe.  And  I  found  what  I  went 
in  search  of,  but  found,  also,  abundant  and  better  re- 
wards that  were  not  in  mind,  even  as  Saul,  the  son 
of  Kish,  went  seeking  asses  and  found  for  himself  a 
crown  and  a  great  kingdom. 

My  thanks  are  due  here  to  the  Right  Honourable 
Lord  Strathcona,  G.  C.  M.  G.,  Governor  of  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company,  for  giving  me  access  to  the  records 
of  the  Company  whenever  I  needed  them  for  histori- 
cal purposes;  to  the  Honourable  Frank  Oliver,  Minis- 
ter of  the  Interior,  Canada,  for  the  necessary  papers 
and  permits  to  facilitate  scientific  collection,  and  also 
to  Clarence  C.  Chipman,  Esq.,  of  Winnipeg,  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company's  Commissioner,  for  practical  help 
in  preparing  my  outfit,  and  for  letters  of  introduction 
to  the  many  officers  of  the  Company,  whose  kind  help 
was  so  often  a  Godsend. 

Ernest  Thompson  Seton.    fc 


CONTENTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 


In  addition  to  the  illustration*  in  the  following  list  there 
are  in  this  book  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  drawings  in 
pen  and  ink  including  a  number  of  maps. 


PAGE 

Preface vii 

CHAPTER 

I.    Departure  for  the  North       ...        3 

Pierre  Powder  (It-tah-min-a-hoo)   .      .  G 

John  Schott,  Caspar  Whitney's  guide  .  6 

II.    Down    the    Noisy    River   with    the 

Voyageurs 10 

E.  T.  Seton  and  E.  A.  Preble  leaving 
Athabaska  Landing,  May  17,  1907  .        10 

Down  the  Athabaska  River       ...        10 

I  found  it  was  a  dead  house-cat;    .   .   . 

under  it  was  a  hungry-looking  Lynx        12 

Our  camp  above  Grand  Rapids,  Atha- 
baska River 14 

Looking  down  the  Athabaska  River 
from  the  island  in  the  Grand  Rapids       14 

III.    Human  Nature  on  the  River       .     .       19 
Lobsticks  or  Monument  Trees  on  the 

skyline,  Athabaska  River       ...        20 


viii  CONTENTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

Camp  on  the  Great  Slave  River  20 
The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  convoy 

descending  the  Athabaska  River      .  24 

Grand  Rapids,  Athabaska  River    .      .  24 

IV.    Down   the   Silent   River   with   the 

Mounted  Police 26 

The  love-song  of  the  Richardson  Owl    .  30 

V.    A  Conference  with  the  Chiefs    .     .  36 

VI.    Out  with  Sousi  Beaulieu    ....  40 

VII.    The  Buffalo  Hunt 44 

Bear-claw  marks  on  tree      ....  44 

The  Buffalo  herd  disappearing  in  brush  48 

VIII.    Thomas  Anderson 54 

Thomas    Anderson,     Smith    Landing, 

June  11,  1907 54 

Murdo  Mackay,  June  9,  1907   .      .      .  54 

IX.    Mosquitoes 61 

X.    A  Bad  Case 70 

XL    The  Second  Buffalo  Hunt      ...  75 

The  Athabaska  Rose  or  Needle  Bloom  76 
Pierre  Squirrel,  Chief  of  the  Chipew- 

yans 76 

XII.    Bezkya  and  the  Pills 83 


CONTEXTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS  ix 


CHAPTER 


XIII.  Fokt   Smith   and   the   Social  Queen  86 

Indian  cabin,  Fort  Smith     ....  88 
Starving  squaws  looking  for  the  return 

of  the  fisher  boats 88 

XIV.  Rabbits  and  Lynxes  in  the  North- 

west    95 

XV.    Ebb   \\i>  Flow  of  Animal  Life     .     .  107 

XVI.    Tin:  Pelican  Trip 113 

XVII.    The  Third  Buffalo  Hunt  ....  116 

XVIII.    Down  to  Fundamentals      ....  125 

XIX.    White    Max    and    Red.     Meat,    but 

Nothing  More 130 

XX.    On  the  Ntakltng 136 

July  camp  on  the  Great  Slave  Lake     .  136 
The   Nyarling  Tessi  or  Underground 

River 136 

XXL    Fort  Resolution  and  Its  Folk     .     .  143 

Sunset  on  Slave  River 144 

Fori  Resolution        144 

XXII.    The  Chipewyans,  Their  Speech  and 

Writing 147 

XXIII.  The  Dogs  of  Fort  Resolution     .     .  159 

XXIV.  The  Voyage  Across  the  Lake      .     .  169 

Our  party  at  Lockhart  River         .     .  170 


CONTENTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXV.    Crossing    the    Lake.      Its    Natural 

History 179 

The  Japanese  landscape  about  Great 

Slave  Lake 182 

Dwarf  spruce,  about  four  feet  high,  on 

edge  of  the  Barren-Grounds        .      .  182 

Forcing  ice  on  the  Great  Slave  Lake    .  186 

The  meal  at  the  Lobstick,  Pike's  Port- 
age         186 

XXVI.    The  Lynx  at  Bay 190 

Photographing  a  Lynx 192 

XXVII.    The  Last  of  that  Indian  Crew    .     .  193 

XXVIII.    Geological  Forces  at  Work    .     .     .  197 

XXIX.    Pike's  Portage 200 

The  Deathbirds,  the  Storm,  and  the 

Wolverine 200 

XXX.    Caribou-Land  at  Last 204 

♦ 

XXXI.    Good-bye  to  the  Woods      ....  213 

The  giants  on  the  edge  of  the  forest    .  216 
An  ancient  dwarf  about  250  years  old. 

Billy  ready  for  action       ....  216 

XXXII.    The  Treeless  Plains 219 

Tyrrell's  Monument  at  Last  Woods     .  220 

The  falls  of  the  Casba  River     ...  220 

Spring  migration  of  Caribou      .      .      .  222 


CONTEXTS  AND  [ILLUSTRATIONS  xi 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXXIII.  The  Unknown 223 

A  young  buck 224 « 

Caribou  with  broken  leg,  in  sanctuary  224 

Same  Caribou  (another  photo.)       .      .  224 

The  leap  for  life 226 

XXXIV.  Aylmer  Lake 228 

Caribou  enjoying  a  breeze   ....  228 
The  trophy  that  weighed  nine  hundred 

pounds 228 

XXXV.    The  Musk-ox 231 

The  head  of  the  Musk-ox    ....  232 

Head  of  bull  Musk-ox — a  pencil  study  232 

Head  of  a  young  buck 234 

An  Arctic  Fox  in  his  summer  coat .      .  234 

Earl  Grey  River,  looking  south-west    .  236 

XXXVI.    The   Arctic   Prairies   and   My   Far- 
thest North 237 

Getting  the  first  sight  of  the  Musk-ox  .  238 

The  bull  turned  and  faced  us    .      .      .  238 

Snap-shot  taken  at  fifty  yards  238 
The    trout    brook    back    of    Tyrrell's 

Monument,  Last  Woods  240 

Typical  landscape,  Arctic  Prairies        .  240 

XXXVII.    Facing  Homeward 246 

XXXVIII.    The  First  Woods 251 

A  Wolverine  and  her  cubs  stealing  our 

Caribou  meat 252 


xii  CONTENTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXXIX.     Farewell  to  the  Caribou  ....  257 

XL.    Old   Fort   Reliance  to   Fort   Reso- 
lution       263 

XLI.    Going  up  the  Lower  Slave      .     .     .271 

XLII.    Fort  Smith  and  the  Tug     ....  276 
The  camp  was  like  a  country  grave- 
yard        276 

XLIII.     Fort  McKay  and  Jiarobia  ....  281 

XLIV.    The  River 285 

XLV.    The  River  Shows  Its  Teeth    ...  289 

XLVI.    Bright  Again 296 

XLVII.    When  Nature  Smiled 301 

XLVIII.    The  End 307 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


CHAPTER  I 
DEPARTURE  FOR  THE  NORTH 

In  1907  I  set  out  to  journey  by  canoe  down  the  Atha- 
baska  and  adjoining  waters  to  the  sole  remaining 
forest  wilds — the  far  north-west  of  Canada — and  the 
yet  more  desert  Arctic  Plains,  where  still,  it  was  said, 
were  to  be  seen  the  Caribou  in  their  primitive  condition. 

My  only  companion  was  Edward  A.  Preble,  of 
Washington,  D.  C,  a  trained  naturalist,  an  expert 
canoeist  and  traveller,  and  a  man  of  three  seasons' 
experience  in  the  Hudson's  Bay  Territory  and  the 
Mackenzie  Valley.  While  nry  chief  object  was  to  see 
the  Caribou,  and  prove  their  continued  abundance,  I 
was  prepared  incidentally  to  gather  natural-history 
material  of  all  kinds,  and  to  complete  the  shore  line 
of  the  ambiguous  lake  called  "Aylmer,"  as  well  as 
explore  its  sister,  the  better-known  Clinton-Colden. 

I  went  for  my  own  pleasure  at  my  own  expense,  and 
yet  I  could  not  persuade  my  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
friends  that  I  was  not  sent  by  some  government,  mu- 
seum or  society  for  some  secret  purpose. 

On  the  night  of  May  5  we  left  Winnipeg,  and  our 
observations  began  with  the  day  at  Brandon. 

From  that  point  westward  to  Regina  we  saw  abun- 
dant evidence  that  last  year  had  been  a  "rabbit  year," 
that  is,  a  year  in  which  the  ever-fluctuating  popula- 

3 


4  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

tion  of  Northern  Hares  (Snowshoe-rabbits  or  White- 
rabbits)  had  reached  its  maximum,  for  nine-tenths  of 
the  bushes  in  sight  from  the  train  had  been  barked  at 
the  snow  level.    But  the  fact  that  we  saw  not  one 


Map  showing  the  north  limit  of  trees  and  of  the  successful  culture 
of  potatoes,  barley,  and  wheat 

The  dotted  line  from  the  Saskatchewan  northward  is  my  canoe-route 


Rabbit  shows  that  "the  plague"  had  appeared,  had 
run  its  usual  drastic  course,  and  nearly  exterminated 
the  species  in  this  particular  region. 

Early  next  morning  at  Kininvie  (40  miles  west  of 
Medicine  Hat,  Alberta)  we  saw  a  band  of  4  Antelope 
south  of  the  track;  later  we  saw  others  all  along  as 
far  as  Gleichen.  All  were  south  of  the  track.  The 
bands  contained  as  follows:  4,  14,  18,  8,  12,  8,  4,  1,  4, 
5,  4,  6,  4,  18,  2,  6,  34,  6,  3,  1,  10,  25, 16,  3,  7,  9  (almost 
never  2,  probably  because  this  species  does  not  pair), 
or  232  Antelope  in  26  bands  along  70  miles  of  track; 


DEPARTURE  FOR  THE   NORTH  5 

but  all  were  on  the  south  side;  not  one  was  noted 
on  the  north. 

The  case  is  simple.  During  the  past  winter,  while 
the  Antelope  were  gone  southward,  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railway  Company  had  fenced  its  track.  In 
spring  the  migrants,  returning,  found  themselves  cut 
off  from  their  summer  feeding-grounds  by  those  im- 
passable barb-wires,  and  so  were  gathered  against  the 
barrier.  One  band  of  8,  at  a  stopping  place,  ran  off 
when  they  saw  passengers  alighting,  but  at  half  a  mile 
they  turned,  and  again  came  up  against  the  fence, 
showing  how  strong  is  the  northward  impulse. 

Unless  they  learn  some  way  of  mastering  the  diffi- 
culty, it  means  extermination  for  the  Antelope  of  the 
north  Saskatchewan. 

From  Calgary  we  went  by  train  to  Edmonton.  This 
is  the  point  of  leaving  the  railway,  the  beginning  of 
hard  travel,  and  here  we  waited  a  few  days  to  gather 
together  our  various  shipments  of  food  and  equipment, 
and  to  await  notice  that  the  river  was  open. 

In  the  north  the  grand  event  of  the  year  is  the  open- 
ing of  the  rivers.  The  day  when  the  ice  goes  out  is 
the  official  first  day  of  spring,  the  beginning  of  the 
season;  and  is  eagerly  looked  for,  as  every  day's  de- 
lay means  serious  loss  to  the  traders,  whose  men  are 
idle,  but  drawing  pay  as  though  at  work. 

On  May  11,  having  learned  that  the  Athabaska  was 
open,  we  left  Edmonton  in  a  livery  rig.  and  drove  94 
miles  northward  though  a  most  promising,  half-settled 
country,  and  late  the  next  day  arrived  at  Athabaska 
Landing,  on  the  great  east  tributary  of  the  Mackenzie, 


G  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

whose  waters  were  to  bear  us  onward  for  so  many 
weeks. 

Athabaska  Landing  is  a  typical  frontier  town. 
These  are  hard  words,  but  justified.  We  put  up  at 
the  principal  hotel;  the  other  lodgers  told  me  it  was 
considered  the  worst  hotel  in  the  world.  I  thought  I 
knew  of  two  worse,  but  next  morning  accepted  the 
prevailing  view. 

Our  canoe  and  provisions  arrived,  but  the  great  con- 
voy of  scows  that  were  to  take  the  annual  supplies  of 
trade  stuff  for  the  far  north  was  not  ready,  and  we 
needed  the  help  and  guidance  of  its  men,  so  must 
needs  wait  for  four  days. 

This  gave  us  the  opportunity  to  study  the  local 
natural  history  and  do  a  little  collecting,  the  results  of 
which  appear  later. 

The  great  size  of  the  timber  here  impressed  me.  I 
measured  a  typical  black  poplar  (P.  balsamifera),  100 
feet  to  the  top,  8  feet  2  inches  in  circumference,  at  18 
inches  from  the  ground,  and  I  saw  many  thicker,  but 
none  taller. 

At  the  hotel,  also  awaiting  the  scows,  was  a  body  of 
four  (dis-)Mounted  Police,  bound  like  ourselves  for  the 
far  north.  The  officer  in  charge  turned  out  to  be  an 
old  friend  from  Toronto,  Major  A.  M.  Jarvis.  I  also 
met  John  Schott,  the  gigantic  half-breed,  who  went 
to  the  Barren  Grounds  with  Caspar  Whitney  in  1895. 
He  seemed  to  have  great  respect  for  Whitney  as  a 
tramper,  and  talked  much  of  the  trip,  evidently  having 
forgotten  his  own  shortcomings  of  the  time.  While  I 
sketched  his  portrait,  he  regaled  me  with  memories  of 


3 
5 


DEPARTURE   FOR   THE  NORTH  7 

his  early  days  on  Red  River,  whore  he  was  bum  in  1841. 
J  did  not  fail  to  make  what  notes  I  could  of  those  now 
historic  limes.  His  accounts  of  the  Antelope  on  White 
Horse  Plain,  in  1855,  and  Buffalo  about  the  site  of 
Carberry,  Manitoba,  in  1852,  were  new  and  valuable 
light  on  the  ancient  ranges  of  these  passing  creatures. 

All  travellers  who  had  preceded  me  into  the  Barren 
Grounds  had  relief!  on  the  abundant  game,  and  in 
consequence  suffered  dreadful  hardships;  in  some  cases 
even  starved  to  death.  I  proposed  to  rely  on  no  game, 
but  to  take  plenty  of  groceries,  the  best  I  could  buy  in 
Winnipeg,  which  means  the  best  in  the  world;  and,  as 
will  be  seen  later,  the  game,  because  I  was  not  relying 
on  it,  walked  into  camp  even'  da}'. 

But  one  canoe  could  not  cany  all  these  provisions, 
so  mosl  of  it  1  shipped  on  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
scows,  taking  with  us,  in  the  canoe,  food  for  not  more 
than  a  week,  which  with  camp  outfit  was  just  enough 
for  ballast. 

Of  course  T  was  in  close  touch  with  the  Hudson's 
Bay  people.  Although  nominally  that  great  trading 
company  parted  with  its  autocratic  power  and  exclu- 
sive franchise  in  1S70,  it  is  still  the  sovereign  of  the 
north.  And  here  let  me  correct  an  error  that  is  some- 
times found  even  in  respectable  print — the  Company 
has  at  all  times  been  ready  to  assist  scientists  to  the 
utmost  of  its  very  ample  power..  Although  jealous  of 
its  trading  rights,  every  one  is  free  to  enter  the  terri- 
tory without  taking  count  of  the  Company,  but  there 
has  not  yet  been  a  successful  scientific  expedition  into 
the  region  without  it-  active  co-operation. 


8  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  has  always  been  the 
guardian  angel  of  the  north. 

I  suppose  that  there  never  yet  was  another  purely 
commercial  concern  that  so  fully  realized  the  moral 
obligations  of  its  great  power,  or  that  has  so  uniformly 
done  its  best  for  the  people  it  ruled. 

At  all  times  it  has  stood  for  peace,  and  one  hears 
over  and  over  again  that  such  and  such  tribes  were 
deadly  enemies,  but  the  Company  insisted  on  their 
smoking  the  peace  pipe.  The  Sioux  and  Ojibway, 
Black-Foot  and  Assiniboine,  Dog-Rib  and  Copper- 
Knife,  Beaver  and  Chipewyan,  all  offer  historic  illus- 
trations in  point,  and  many  others  could  be  found  for 
the  list. 

The  name  Peace  River  itself  is  the  monument  of  a 
successful  effort  on  the  part  of  the  Company  to  bring 
about  a  better  understanding  between  the  Crees  and 
the  Beavers. 

Besides  human  foes,  the  Company  has  saved  the 
Indian  from  famine  and  plague.  Many  a  hunger- 
stricken  tribe  owes  its  continued  existence  to  the 
fatherly  care  of  the  Company,  not  simply  general  and 
indiscriminate,  but  minute  and  personal,  carried  into 
the  details  of  their  lives.  For  instance,  when  bots  so 
pestered  the  Caribou  of  one  region  as  to  render  their 
hides  useless  to  the  natives,  the  Company  brought  in 
hides  from  a  district  where  they  still  were  good. 

The  Chipewyans  were  each  spring  the  victims  of 
snow-blindness  until  the  Company  brought  and  suc- 
ceeded in  popularizing  their  present  ugly  but  effectual 
and  universal  peaked  hats.    When  their  train-dogs 


DEPARTURE  FOR  THE  NORTH  9 

were  running  down  in  physique,  the  Company  brought 
in  a  strain  of  pure  Huskies  or  Eskimo.  When  the 
Albany  River  Indians  were  starving  and  unable  to 
hunt,  the  Company  gave  the  order  for  5,000  lodge 
poles.  Then,  not  knowing  how  else  to  turn  them  to 
account,  commissioned  the  Indians  to  work  them  into 
a  picket  garden-fence.  At  all  times  the  native  found 
a  father  in  the  Company,  and  it  was  the  worst  thing 
that  ever  happened  the  region  when  the  irresponsible 
free-traders  with  their  demoralizing  methods  were 
allowed  to  enter  and  traffic  where  or  how  they  pleased. 


Indian  Pilot.    May  19,  1907 


CHAPTER  II 
DOWN  THE  NOISY  RIVER  WITH  THE  VOYAGEURS 

At  Athabaska  Landing,  on  May  18,  1907,  10.15  a.  m., 
we  boarded  the  superb  Peterborough  canoe  that  I  had 
christened  the  Ann  Seton.  The  Athabaska  River  was 
a-flood  and  clear  of  ice;  13  scows  of  freight,  with  60 
half-breeds  and  Indians  to  man  them,  left  at  the  same 
time,  and  in  spite  of  a  strong  headwind  we  drifted 
northward  fully  3|  miles  an  hour. 

The  leading  scow,  where  I  spent  some  time,  was  in 
charge  of  John  MacDonald  himself,  and  his  passengers 
comprised  the  Hudson's  Ba}^  Company  officials,  going 
to  their  posts  or  on  tours  of  inspection.  They  were  a 
jolly  crowd,  like  a  lot  of  rollicking  schoolboys,  full  of 
fun  and  good-humour,  chaffing  and  joking  all  day;  but 
when  a  question  of  business  came  up,  the  serious  busi- 
ness man  appeared  in  each,  and  the  Company's  interest 
was  cared  for  with  their  best  powers.  The  bottle  was 
not  entirely  absent  in  these  scow  fraternities,  but  I 
saw  no  one  the  worse  for  liquor  on  the  trip. 

The  men  of  mixed  blood  jabbered  in  French,  Cree, 
and  Chipewyan  chiefly,  but  when  they  wanted  to 
swear,  they  felt  the  inadequacy  of  these  mellifluous  or 
lisping  tongues,  and  fell  back  on  virile  Saxon,  whose 
tang,  projectivity,  and  wealth  of  vile  epithet  evidently 
supplied  a  long-felt  want  in  the  Great  Lone  Land  of 
the  Dog  and  Canoe. 

10 


E.  T.  Seton  and  E.  A.  Preble  leaving  Athabaska  Landing,  May  17,  1!><>7 


Down  the  Athabaska  River 


WITH  THE  VOYAGEURS  11 

In  the  afternoon  Preble  and  I  pushed  on  in  our  boat, 
far  in  advance  of  the  brigade.  As  we  made  early 
supper  I  received  for  the  twentieth  time  a  lesson  in 
photography.  A  cock  Partridge  or  Ruffed  Grouse 
came  and  drummed  on  a  log  in  open  view,  full  sun- 
light, fifty  feet  away.  I  went  quietly  to  the  place.  He 
walked  off,  but  little  alarmed.  I  set  the  camera  eight 
feel  from  the  log,  with  twenty-five  feet  of  tubing,  and 
retired  to  a  good  hiding-place.  But  alas!  I  put  the 
tube  on  the  left-hand  pump,  not  knowing  that  that 
was  a  dummy.  The  Grouse  came  back  in  three  min- 
utes, drumming  in  a  superb  pose  squarely  in  front  of 
the  camera.  I  used  the  pump,  but  saw  that  it  failed 
to  operate;  on  going  forward  the  Grouse  skimmed 
away  and  returned  no  more.  Preble  said,  "Never 
mind;  there  will  be  another  every  hundred  yards  all 
the  way  down  the  river,  later  on."  I  could  only  reply, 
"The  chance  never  comes  but  once,"  and  so  it  proved. 
We  heard  Grouse  drumming  many  times  afterward, 
but  the  sun  was  low,  or  the  places  densely  shaded,  or 
the  mosquitoes  made  conditions  impossible  for  silent 
watching;  the  'perfect  chance  came  but  once,  as  it 
always  does,  and  I  lost  it. 

About  twenty  miles  below  the  Landing  we  found  the 
abandoned  winter  hut  of  a  trapper;  on  the  roof  were 
the  dried  up  bodies  of  1  Skunk,  2  Foxes,  and  30 
Lynxes,  besides  the  bones  of  2  Moose,  showing  the 
nature  of  the  wild  life  about. 

That  night,  as  the  river  was  brimming  and  safe,  we 
tied  up  to  the  scows  and  drifted,  making  30  more 
miles,  or  60  since  embarking. 


12 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


In  the  early  morning,  I  was  much  struck  by  the  life- 
lessness  of  the  scene.  The  great  river  stretched  away 
northward,  the  hills  rose  abruptly  from  the  water's 
edge,  everywhere  extended  the  superb  spruce  forest, 
here  fortunately  unburnt;  but  there  seemed  no  sign  of 
living  creature  outside  of  our  own  numerous,  noisy, 


The  Roll  Call 

and  picturesque  party.  River,  hills,  and  woods  were 
calm  and  silent.  It  was  impressive,  if  disappointing; 
and,  when  at  last  the  fir  stillness  was  broken  by  a 
succession  of  trumpet  notes  from  the  Great  Pileated 
Woodpecker,  the  sound  went  rolling  on  and  on,  in 
reverberating  echoes  that  might  well  have  alarmed 
the  bird  himself. 

The  white  spruce  forest  along  the  banks  is  most  in- 
spiring; magnificent  here.  Down  the  terraced  slopes 
and  right  to  the  water's  edge  on  the  alluvial  soil  it 
stands  in  ranks.  Each  year,  of  course,  the  floods 
undercut  the  banks,  and  more  trees  fall,  to  become  at 
last  the  flotsam  of  the  shore  a  thousand  miles  away. 


I  found  it  was  a  dead  house-cat;  .  .  .   under  it  was  a  huntrn  looking  Lynx 


WITH  THE  VOYAGEURS  13 

There  is  something  sad  about  these  stately  trees, 
densely  packed,  all  a-row,  unflinching,  hopelessly 
awaiting  the  onset  of  the  inexorable,  invincible  river. 
One  group,  somewhat  isolated  and  formal,  was  a 
forest  life  parallel  to  Lady  Butler's  famous  "Roll  Call 
of  the  Grenadiers." 

At  night  we  reached  the  Indian  village  of  Pelican 
Portage,  and  landed  by  climbing  over  huge  blocks  of 
ice  that  were  piled  along  the  shore.  The  adult  male 
inhabitants  came  down  to  our  camp,  so  that  the  vil- 
lage was  deserted,  except  for  the  children  and  a  few 
women. 

As  I  walked  down  the  crooked  trail  along  which 
straggle  the  cabins,  I  sawT  something  white  in  a  tree  at 
the  far  end.  Supposing  it  to  be  a  White-rabbit  in  a 
snare,  I  went  near  and  found,  to  my  surprise,  first  that 
it  was  a  dead  house-cat,  a  rare  species  here;  second, 
under  it,  eyeing  it  and  me  alternately,  was  a  hungry- 
looking  Lynx.  I  had  a  camera,  for  it  was  near  sun- 
down, and  in  the  woods,  so  I  went  back  to  the  boat 
and  returned  with  a  gun.  There  was  the  Lynx  still 
prowling,  but  now  farther  from  the  village.  I  do  not 
believe  he  would  have  harmed  the  children,  but  a 
Lynx  is  game.  I  fired,  and  he  fell  without  a  quiver 
or  a  sound.  This  was  the  first  time  I  had  used  a  gun 
in  many  years,  and  was  the  only  time  on  the  trip.  I 
felt  rather  guilty,  but  the  carcass  was  a  godsend  to  two 
old  Indians  who  were  sickening  on  a  long  diet  of  salt 
pork,  and  that  Lynx  furnished  them  tender  meat  for 
three  days  afterward:  while  its  skin  and  skull  went  to 
the  American  Museum. 


14  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

On  the  night  of  May  20,  we  camped  just  above 
Grand  Rapids — Preble  and  I  alone,  for  the  first  time, 
under  canvas,  and  glad  indeed  to  get  away  from  the 
noisy  rabble  of  the  boatmen,  though  now  they  were 
but  a  quarter  mile  off.  At  first  I  had  found  them 
amusing  and  picturesque,  but  their  man}'  unpleasant 
habits,  their  distinct  aversion  to  strangers,  their  greedi- 
ness to  get  all  they  could  out  of  one,  and  do  nothing  in 
return,  combined  finally  with  their  habit  of  gambling 
all  night  to  the  loud  beating  of  a  tin  pan,  made  me 
thankful  to  quit  their  company  for  a  time. 

At  Grand  Rapids  the  scows  were  unloaded,  the 
goods  shipped  over  a  quarter-mile  hand  tramway,  on 
an  island,  the  scows  taken  down  a  side  channel,  one 
by  one,  and  reloaded.  This  meant  a  delay  of  three 
or  four  days,  during  which  we  camped  on  the  island 
and  gathered  specimens. 

Being  the  organizer,  equipper,  geographer,  artist, 
head,  and  tail  of  the  expedition,  I  was,  perforce,  also 
its  doctor.  Equipped  with  a  "pill-kit,"  an  abundance 
of  blisters  and  bandages  and  some  "potent  purgatives," 
I  had  prepared  myself  to  render  first  and  last  aid  to  the 
hurt  in  my  own  party.  In  taking  instructions  from  our 
family  physician,  I  had  learned  the  value  of  a  profound 
air  of  great  gravity,  a  noble  reticence,  and  a  total  ab- 
sence of  doubt,  when  I  did  speak.  I  compressed  his 
creed  into  a  single  phrase:  "In  case  of  doubt,  look  wise 
and  work  on  his  'bowels.' "  This  simple  equipment  soon 
gave  me  a  surprisingly  high  standing  among  the  men. 
I  was  a  medicine  man  of  repuie,  and  soon  had  a  larger 
practice  than  I  desired,  as  it  was  entirely  gratuitous. 


Our  camp  above  Grand  Rapids,  Athabaska  River 


Looking  down  the  Athabaska   River  from  the  island  in  the  Grand   Rapids 


WITH  THE  VOYAGEURS  15 

The  various  boatmen,  Indians  and  half-breeds,  came 
with  their  troubles,  and,  thanks  chiefly  to  their  faith, 

wen-  cured.  Bu1  one  day  John  .Mai  Donald,  the  chief 
pilot  and  a  mighty  man  on  the  river,  came  to  my  tent 
on  Grand  Island.  John  complained  thai  he  couldn't 
hold  anything  on  his  stomach;  he  was  a  total  peristaltic 
wreck  indeed  (my  words;  his  were  more  simple  and 
more  vivid,  but  less  sonorous  and  professional).  He 
said  he  had  been  going  down  hill  for  two  weeks,  and 
was  so  bad  now  that  he  was  "no  better  than  a  couple 
of  ordinary  men." 

"Exactly  id.    "Now  you  take  these  pills  and 

you'll  be  all  right  in  the  morning."  Next  morning 
John  was  back,  and  complained  that  my  pills  had  no 
effect :  he  wanted  to  feel  something  take  hold  of  him. 
Hadn't  I  any  pepper-juice  or  brandy? 

I  do  not  take  liquor  on  an  expedition,  but  at  the 
last  moment  a  Winnipeg  friend  had  given  me  a  pint 
flask  of  pure  brandy — "for  emergencies."  An  emer- 
gency had  come.  ' 

"John !  you  shall  have  some  extra  fine  brandy, 
nicely  thinned  with  pepper-juice."  I  poured  half  an 
inch  of  brandy  into  a  tin  cup,  then  added  half  an  inch 
of  "pain-killer." 

"Here,  take  this,  and  if  you  don't  feel  it,  it  means 
your  insides  are  dead,  and  you  may  as  well  order  your 
coffin." 

John  took  it  at  a  gulp.  His  insides  were  not  dead; 
but  I  might  have  been,  had  I  been  one  of  his  boatmen. 

He  doubled  up,  rolled  around,  and  (lanced  for  five 
minutes.     He  did  not  squeal — John  never  squeals — but 


16  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

he  suffered  some,  and  an  hour  later  announced  that  he 
was  about  cured. 

Next  day  he  came  to  say  he  was  all  right,  and  would 
soon  again  be  as  good  as  half  a  dozen  men. 

At  this  same  camp  in  Grand  Rapids  another  cure  on 
a  much  larger  scale  was  added  to  my  list.  An  Indian 
had  "the  bones  of  his  foot  broken,"  crushed  by  a 
heavy  weight,  and  was  badly  crippled.  He  came  lean- 
ing on  a  friend's  shoulder.  His  foot  was  blackened 
and  much  swollen,  but  I  soon  satisfied  myself  that  no 
bones  were  broken,  because  he  could  wriggle  all  the 
toes  and  move  the  foot  in  any  direction. 

"You'll  be  better  in  three  days  and  all  right  in  a 
week,"  I  said,  with  calm  assurance.  Then  I  began 
with  massage.  It  seemed  necessary  in  the  Indian  en- 
vironment to  hum  some  tune,  and  I  found  that  the 
"  Koochy-Koochy "  lent  itself  best  to  the  motion,  so  it 
became  my  medicine  song. 

With  many  "  Koochy-Koochy  "-ings  and  much  ice- 
cold  water  he  was  nearly  cured  in  three  days,  and 
sound  again  in  a  week.  But  in  the  north  folk  have  a 
habit  (not  known  elsewhere)  of  improving  the  inci- 
dent. Very  soon  it  was  known  all  along  the  river  that 
the  Indian's  leg  ivas  broken,  and  I  had  set  and  healed 
it  in  three  days.  In  a  year  or  two,  I  doubt  not,  it  will 
be  his  neck  that  was  broken,  not  once,  but  in  several 
places. 

Grand  Island  yielded  a  great  many  Deermice  of  the 
arcticus  form,  a  few  Red-backed  Voles,  and  any  num- 
ber of  small  birds  migrant. 

As  we  floated  down  the  river  the  eye  was  continu- 


WITH  THE  VOYAGEURS  17 

ally  held  by  tall  and  prominent  spruce  trees  that  had 
been  cut  into  peculiar  forms  as  below.  These  were 
known  as  "lob-sticks,"  or  "lop-sticks,"  and  are  usu- 
ally the  monuments  of  some  distinguished  visitor  in 
the  country  or  records  of  some  heroic  achievement. 
Thus,  one  would  be  pointed  out  as  Commissioner 
Wrigley's  lob-stick,  another  as  John  MacDonald's  the 
time  he  saved  the  scow. 

The  inauguration  of  a  lob-stick  is  quite  a  ceremony. 
Some  person  in  camp  has  impressed  all  with  his  im- 
portance or  other  claim  to 
notice.  The  men,  having  &  <?/  **S 
talked  it  over,  announce 
that  they  have  decided  on 
giving    him    a   lob-stick. 

"Will    he   make    choice    Of       Lob-6ticks,  or  trees  trimmed  as 

monuments,  along  the  river 

some   prominent    tree    m 

view?"  The  visitor  usually  selects  one  back  from  the 
water's  edge,  often  on  some  far  hilltop,  the  more 
prominent  the  better;  then  an  active  young  fellow  is 
sent  up  with  an  axe  to  trim  the  tree.  The  more 
embellishment  the  higher  the  honor.  On  the  trunk 
they  then  inscribe  the  name  of  the  stranger,  and  he  is 
supposed  to  give  each  of  the  men  a  plug  of  tobacco 
and  a  drink  of  whiskey.  Thus  they  celebrate  the  man 
and  his  monument,  and  ever  afterwards  it  is  pointed 
out  as  "So-and-so's  lob-stick." 

It  was  two  months  before  my  men  judged  that  I  was 
entitled  to  a  lob-stick.  We  were  then  on  Great  Slave 
Lake  where  the  timber  was  small  but  the  best  they 
could  get  on  a  small  island  was  chosen  and  trimmed 


18  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

into  a  monument.  They  were  disappointed  however,  to 
find  that  I  would  by  no  means  give  whiskey  to  natives, 
and  my  treat  had  to  take  a  wholly  different  form. 

Grand  Rapids,  with  its  multiplicity  of  perfectly 
round  pot-hole  boulders,  was  passed  in  four  days,  and 
then,  again  in  company  with  the  boats,  we  entered  the 
real  canyon  of  the  river. 

Down  Athabaska's  boiling  flood 
Of  seething,  leaping,  coiling  mud. 


CHAPTER  III 

HUMAN  NATURE  ON  THE   RIVER 

Sunday  morning,  26th  of  May,  there  was  something 
like  a  strike  among  the  sixty  half-breeds  and  Indians 
thai  composed  the  crews.  They  were  strict  Sabba- 
tarians (when  it  suited  them);  they  believed  that  they 
should  do  no  work,  but  give  up  the  day  to  gambling 
and  drinking.  Old  John,  the  chief  pilot,  wished  to 
take  advantage  of  the  fine  flood  on  the  changing  river, 
and  drift  down  at  least  to  the  head  of  the  Boiler  Rap- 
ids, twenty  miles  away.  The  breeds  maintained,  with 
many  white  swear  words,  for  lack  of  strong  talk  in 
Indian,  thai  they  never  yet  knew  Sunday  work  to  end 
in  anything  but  disaster,  and  they  sullenly  scattered 
among  the  trees,  produced  their  cards,  and  proceeded 
to  gamble  away  their  property,  next  year's  pay,  clothes, 
families,  anything,  and  otherwise  show  their  respect 
for  the  Lord's  Day  and  defiance  of  old  John  MacDonald. 
John  made  no  reply  to  their  arguments;  he  merely 
boarded  the  cook's  boat,  and  pushed  off  into  the  swift 
stream  with  the  cooks  and  all  the  grub.  In  five  min- 
utes the  strikers  were  on  the  twelve  big  boats  doing 
their  best  to  live  up  to  orders.  John  said  nothing,  and 
grinned  at  me  only  with  his  eyes. 

The  breeds  took  their  defeat  in  good  part  after  the 
first  minute,  and  their  commander  rose  higher  in  their 
respect. 

19 


20 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


At  noon  we  camped  above  the  Boiler  Rapids.  In 
the  evening  I  climbed  the  400-  or  500-foot  hill  behind 
camp  and  sketched  the  canyon  looking  northward. 
The  spring  birds  were  now  beginning  to  arrive,  but 


^fc#, 


Canyon  of  the  Athabaska  River,  looking  north 


were  said  to  be  a  month  late  this  year.  The  ground 
was  everywhere  marked  with  moose  sign;  prospects 
were  brightening. 

The  mania  for  killing  that  is  seen  in  many  white  men 
is  evidently  a  relic  of  savagery,  for  all  of  these  Indians 
and  half-breeds  are  full  of  it.  Each  carries  a  rifle,  and 
every  living  thing  that  appears  on  the  banks  or  on  the 
water  is  fusilladed  with  Winchesters  until  it  is  dead  or 
out  of  sight.  This  explains  why  we  see  so  little  from 
the  scows.  One  should  be  at  least  a  day  ahead  of 
them  to  meet  with  wild  life  on  the  river. 

This  morning  two  Bears  appeared  on  the  high  bank 
— and  there  was  the  usual  uproar  and  fusillading;  so  far 
as  could  be  learned  without  any  effect,  except  the  ex- 
penditure of  thirty  or  forty  cartridges  at  five  cents  each. 


Lobsticks  or  Monument  Trees  on  the  skyline,  Athabaska   River 


Camp  on  the  Great  Slave  River 


HUMAN  NATURE  ON  THE  RIVER       23 

On  the  27th  we  came  to  the  Cascade  Rapids.  The 
first  or  Little  Cascade  has  about  two  feet  fall,  the 
second  or  Grand  Cascade,  a  mile  farther,  is  about  a  six 
foot  sheer  drop.    These  are  considered  very  difficult 


Natural  amphitheatre  on  Athabaska  Canyon 


to  run,  and  the  manner  of  doing  it  changes  with  every 
change  in  season  or  water  level. 

We  therefore  went  through  an  important  ceremony, 
always  carried  out  in  the  same  way.  All  13  boats 
were  beached,  the  13  pilots  went  ahead  on  the  bank  to 
study  the  problem,  they  decided  on  the  one  safe  place 
and  manner,  then  returned,  and  each  of  the  13  boats 
was  run  over  in  13  different  places  and  manners. 
They  always  do  this.  You  are  supposed  to  have  run 
the  Cascades  successfully  if  you  cross  them  alive,  but 
to  have  failed  if  you  drown.  In  this  case  all  were 
successful. 

Below  the  Cascades  I  had  a  sample  of  Indian  grati- 
tude that  set  me  thinking.    My  success  with  John 


22  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

MacDonald  and  others  had  added  the  whole  commu- 
nity to  my  medical  practice,  for  those  who  were  not  sick 
thought  they  were.  I  cheerfully  did  my  best  for  all, 
and  was  supposed  to  be  persona  grata.  Just  below  the 
Cascade  Rapids  was  a  famous  sucker  pool,  and  after 
we  had  camped  three  Indians  came,  saying  that  the 
pool  was  full  of  suckers — would  I  lend  them  my  canoe 
to  get  some? 

Away  they  went,  and  from  afar  I  was  horrified  to 
see  them  clubbing  the  fish  with  my  beautiful  thin- 
bladed  maple  paddles.  They  returned  with  a  boat 
load  of  3-  and  4-pound  Suckers  (Catostomus)  and  2 
paddles  broken.  Each  of  their  friends  came  and  re- 
ceived one  or  two  fine  fish,  for  there  were  plenty.  I, 
presumably  part  owner  of  the  catch,  since  I  owned  the 
boat,  selected  one  small  one  for  myself,  whereupon  the 
Indian  insolently  demanded  25  cents  for  it;  and  these 
were  the  men  I  had  been  freely  doctoring  for  two  weeks! 
Not  to  speak  of  the  loaned  canoe  and  broken  paddles! 
Then  did  I  say  a  few  things  to  all  and  sundry — stinging, 
biting  things,  ungainsayable  and  forcible  things — and 
took  possession  of  all  the  fish  that  were  left,  so  the  In- 
dians slunk  off  in  sullen  silence. 

Gratitude  seems  an  unknown  feeling  among  these 
folk;  you  may  give  presents  and  help  and  feed  them 
all  you  like,  the  moment  you  want  a  slight  favour  of 
them  they  demand  the  uttermost  cent.  In  attempt- 
ing to  analyse  this  I  was  confronted  by  the  fact  that 
among  themselves  they  are  kind  and  hospitable,  and 
at  length  discovered  that  their  attitude  toward  us  is 
founded  on  the  ideas  that  all  white  men  are  very  rich, 


IIFMAN  NATURE  ON  THE  RIVER       23 

that  the  Indian  has  made  them  so  by  allowing  them 
to  come  into  this  country,  thai  the  Indian  is  very  poor 
because  he  never  was  properly  compensated,  and  that 
therefore  all  he  can  get  out  of  said  white  man  is  much 
less  than  the  white  man  ewes  him. 

As  we  rounded  a  point  one  day  a  Lynx  appeared 
statuesque  on  a  stranded  cake  of  ice,  a  hundred  yards 
off,  and  gazed  at  the  approaching  boats.  True  to  their 
religion,  the  half-breeds  seized  their  rifles,  the  bullets 
whistled  harmlessly  about  the  ''Peeshoo" — whereupon 
he  turned  and  walked  calmly  up  the  slope,  stopping  to 
look  at  each  fresh  volley,  but  finally  waved  his  stumpy 
tail  and  walked  unharmed  over  the  ridge.  Distance 
fifty  yards. 

On  May  28  we  reached  Fort  MacMurray. 

Here  I  saw  several  interesting  persons:  Miss  Chris- 
tine Gordon,  the  postmaster;  Joe  Bird,  a  half-breed 
with  all  the  advanced  ideas  of  a  progressive  white 

man;   and  an  American  ex-patriot,  G ,  a  tall, 

raw-boned  Yank  from  Illinois.  He  was  a  typical 
American  of  the  kind  that  knows  little  of  America 
and  nothing  of  Europe;  but  shrewd  and  successful  in 
spite  of  these  limitations.  In  appearance  he  was  not 
unlike  Abraham  Lincoln.  lie  was  a  rabid  American, 
and  why  he  stayed  here  was  a  question. 
•  He  had  had  no  detailed  tidings  from  home  forycars, 
and  I  never  saw  a  man  more  keen  for  the  news.  On 
the  banks  of  the  river  we  sat  for  an  hour  while  he  plied 
me  with  questions,  which  1  answered  so  far  as  I  could. 
He  hung  on  my  lips:  he  interrupted  only  when  there 
seemed  a  halt  in  the  stream;  he  revelled  in  all  the  de- 


24  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

tails  of  wrecks  by  rail  and  sea.  Roosevelt  and  the 
trusts — insurance  scandals — the  lynchings  in  the  South 
— the  burnings  in  the  West — massacres — murders — 
horrors — risings — these  were  his  special  gloats,  and  yet 
he  kept  me  going  with  "Yes — yes — and  then?"  or 
"Yes,  by  golly — that's  the  way  we're  a-doing  it.  Go 
on." 

Then,  after  I  had  robbed  New  York  of  $100,000,000 
a  year,  burnt  10  large  towns  and  45  small  ones,  wrecked 
200  express  trains,  lynched  96  negroes  in  the  South — 
and  murdered  many  men  every  night  for  7  years  in 
Chicago — he  broke  out: 

"By  golly,  we  are  a-doing  it.  We  are  the  people. 
We  are  a-moving  things  now;  and  I  tell  you  I  give 
the  worst  of  them  there  European  countries,  the  very 
worst  of  'em,  just  100  years  to  become  Americanised." 

Think  of  that,  ye  polished  Frenchmen;  ye  refined, 
courteous  Swedes;  ye  civilised  Danes;  you  have  100 
years  to  become  truly  Americanised! 

All  down  the  river  route  we  came  on  relics  of  another 
class  of  wanderers — the  Klondikers  of  1898.  Some- 
times these  were  empty  winter  cabins;  sometimes 
curious  tools  left  at  Hudson's  Bay  Posts,  and  in  some 
cases  expensive  provisions;  in  all  cases  we  heard  weird 
tales  of  their  madness. 

There  is,  I  am  told,  a  shanty  on  the  Mackenzie  above 
Simpson,  where  four  of  them  made  a  strange  record. 
Cooped  up  for  months  in  tight  winter  quarters,  they 
soon  quarrelled,  and  at  length  their  partnership  was 
dissolved.  Each  took  the  articles  he  had  contributed, 
and  those  of  common  purchase  they  divided  in  four 


The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  convoy  descending  the  A.thabaska  River 


Grand  Rapids,  Athabaska  River 


HUMAN    NATURE  OX  THE   RIVER       25 

equal  parts.  The  stove,  the  canoe,  the  lamp,  the 
spade,  were  broken  relentlessly  and  savagely  into  four 
parts— four  piles  of  useless  rubbish.    The  shanty  was 

divided  in  four.  One  man  had  some  candles  of  his  own 
1  >ringing.  These  he  kept  and  carefully  screened  off  his 
corner  of  the  room  so  no  chance  rays  might  reach  the 
Others  to  comfort  them;  they  spent  the  winter  in 
darkness.  None  spoke  to  the  other,  and  they  parted, 
singly  and  silently,  hatefully  as  ever,  as  soon  as  the 
springtime  opened  the  way. 


CHAPTER  IV 

DOWN  THE  SILENT  RIVER   WITH  THE 
MOUNTED  POLICE 

At  Fort  MacMurray  we  learned  that  there  was  no  tell- 
ing when  the  steamer  might  arrive;  Major  Jarvis  was 
under  orders  to  proceed  without  delay  to  Smith  Land- 
ing; so  to  solve  all  our  difficulties  I  bought  a  30-foot 
boat  (sturgeon-head)  of  Joe  Bird,  and  arranged  to  join 
forces  with  the  police  for  the  next  part  of  the  journey. 

I  had  made  several  unsuccessful  attempts  to  get  an 
experienced  native  boatman  to  go  northward  with  me. 
All  seemed  to  fear  the  intending  plunge  into  the 
unknown;  so  was  agreeably  surprised  when  a  sturdy 
young  fellow  of  Scottish  and  Cree  parentage  came  and 
volunteered  for  the  trip.  A  few  inquiries  proved  him 
to  bear  a  good  reputation  as  a  river-man  and  worker, 
so  William  C.  Loutit  was  added  to  my  expedition  and 
served  me  faithfully  throughout. 

In  time  I  learned  that  Billy  was  a  famous  traveller. 
Some  years  ago,  when  the  flood  had  severed  all  com- 
munication between  Athabaska  Landing  and  Edmon- 
ton, Billy  volunteered  to  carry  some  important  des- 
patches, and  covered  the  96  miles  on  foot  in  one  and  a 
half  days,  although  much  of  the  road  was  under  water. 
On  another  occasion  he  went  alone  and  afoot  from 
House  River  up  the  Athabaska  to  Calling  River,  and 

2G 


WITH  THE  MOUNTED   POLICE  27 

across  the  Point  to  the  Athabaska  again,  then  up  to 

the  Landing — 150  rough  miles  in  four  days.  These 
exploits  I  had  to  find  out  for  myself  later  on,  but 
much  more  important  to  me  at  the  time  was  the  fact 
thai  he  was  a  first-class  cook,  a  steady,  cheerful  worker, 
and  a  capable  guide  as  far  as  Great  Slave  Lake. 

The  Athabaska  below  Fort  MacMurray  is  a  noble 
stream,  one-third  of  a  mile  wide,  deep,  steady,  un- 


n 

Floating  clown  the  Slave 

marred;  the  banks  are  covered  with  unbroken  virginal 
forests  of  tall  white  poplar,  balsam  poplar,  spruce,  and 
birch.  The  fire  has  done  no  damage  here  as  yet,  the 
axe  has  left  no  trace,  there  are  no  houses,  no  sign  of 
man  except  occasional  teepee  poles.  I  could  fancy 
myself  floating  down  the  Ohio  two  hundred  years  ago. 
These  wrere  bright  days  to  be  remembered,  as  we 
drifted  down  its  placid  tide  in  our  ample  and  com- 
fortable boat,  with  abundance  of  good  things.  Calm, 
lovely,  spring  weather;  ducks  all  along  the  river;  plenty 
of  food,  which  is  the  northerner's  idea  of  bliss;  plenty 
of  water,  which  is  the  river-man's  notion  of  joy;  plenty 
of  leisure,  which  is  an  element  in  mosl  men's  heaven, 
for  we  had  merely  to  float  with  the  stream,  three  miles 
an  hour,  except  when  we  landed  to  eat  or  sleep. 


28 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


The  woods  were  donning  their  vernal  green  and  re- 
sounded with  the  calls  of  birds  now.  The  mosquito 
plague  of  the  region  had  not  yet  appeared,  and  there 
was  little  lacking  to  crown  with  a  halo  the  memory  of 
those  days  on  the  Missouri  of  the  North. 

Native  quadrupeds  seemed  scarce,  and  we  were  all 
agog  when  one  of  the  men  saw  a  black  fox  trotting 
along  the  opposite  bank.    However,  it  turned  out  to 


H*H^&wtt* 


Fort  McKay 


be  one  of  the  many  stray  dogs  of  the  country.  He 
followed  us  a  mile  or  more,  stopping  at  times  to  leap 
at  fish  that  showed  near  the  shore.  When  we  landed 
for  lunch  he  swam  the  broad  stream  and  hung  about 
at  a  distance.  As  this  was  twenty  miles  from  any 
settlement,  he  was  doubtless  hungry,  so  I  left  a  boun- 
tiful lunch  for  him,  and  when  we  moved  away,  he 
claimed  his  own. 

At  Fort  McKay  I  saw  a  little  half-breed  boy  shoot- 
ing with  a  bow  and  displaying  extraordinary  marks- 
manship. At  sixty  feet  he  could  hit  the  bottom  of  a 
tomato  tin  nearly  every  time;  and  even  more  surpris- 
ing was  the  fact  that  he  held  the  arrow  with  what  is 
known  as  the  Mediterranean  hold.  When,  months 
later,  I  again  stopped  at  this  place,  I  saw  another  boy 


WITH   THE  MOUNTED   POLICE  29 

doing  the  very  same.    Some  residents  assured  me  thai 
this  was  the  style  of  all  the  Chipewyans  as  well  as  the 

That  night  we  camped  far  down  the  river  and  on  the 
side  opposite  the  Fort,  for  experience  soon  teaches  one 
to  give  the  dogs  no  chance  of  entering  camp  on  ma- 
rauding expeditions  while  you  rest.  About  ten,  as  I 
was  going  to  sleep,  Preble  put  his  head  in  and  said: 
"Come  out  here  if  you  want  a  new  sensation." 

In  a  moment  I  was  standing  with  him  under  the  tall 
spruce  trees,  looking  over  the  river  to  the  dark  forest, 
a  quarter  mile  away,  and  listening  intently  to  a  new 
and  wonderful  sound.  Like  the  slow  tolling  of  a  soft 
but  high-pitched  bell,  it  came.  Ting,  ting,  ting,  ting, 
and  on,  rising  and  falling  with  the  breeze,  but  still 
keeping  on  about  two  "tings"  to  the  second,  and  on, 
dulling  as  with  distance,  but  rising  again  and  again. 

It  was  unlike  anything  I  had  ever  heard,  but  Preble 
knew  it  of  old.  "That,"  says  he,  "is  the  love-song  of 
the  Richardson  Owl.  She  is  sitting  demurely  in  some 
spruce  to})  while  he  sails  around,  singing  on  the  wing, 
and  when  the  sound  seems  distant,  he  is  on  the  far 
side  of  the  tree." 

Ting,  (ing,  ling,  ting,  it  went  on  and  on,  this  soft 
belling  of  his  love,  this  amorous  music  of  our  northern 
bell-bird. 

Ting,  ting,  ting,  ling,  ting,  ting,  ting,  ling,  ting,  ting, 
ting,  ting — oh,  how  could  any  lady  owl  resist  such 
strains? — and  on,  with  its  ting,  ting,  ting,  ting,  ting, 
ting,  ting,  tixc,  the  whole  night  air  was  vibrant.  Then, 
as  though  by  plan,  a  different  note — the  deep  boom- 


30  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

ing  "Olio — oh — who — oh  who  hoo"  of  the  Great  Horned 
Owl — was  heard  singing  a  most  appropriate  bass. 

But  the  little  Owl  went  on  and  on;  5  minutes,  10 
minutes,  20  minutes  at  last  had  elapsed  before  I 
turned  in  again  and  left  him.  More  than  once  that 
night  I  awoke  to  hear  his  "tinging"  serenade  upon  the 
consecrated  air  of  the  piney  woods. 

Yet  Preble  said  this  one  was  an  indifferent  performer. 
On  the  Mackenzie  he  had  heard  far  better  singers  of 


Athabaska  River  looking  north  from  Poplar  Point 

the  kind;  some  that  introduce  many  variations  of  the 
pitch  and  modulation.  I  thought  it  one  of  the  most 
charming  bird  voices  I  had  ever  listened  to — and  felt 
that  this  was  one  of  the  things  that  make  the  journey 
worth  while. 

On  June  1  the  weather  was  so  blustering  and  wet 
that  we  did  not  break  camp.  I  put  in  the  day  exam- 
ining the  superb  timber  of  this  bottom-land.  White 
spruce  is  the  prevailing  conifer  and  is  here  seen  in  per- 
fection. A  representative  specimen  was  118  feet  high, 
11  feet  2  inches  in  circumference,  or  3  feet  6^  inches 
in  diameter  1  foot  from  the  ground,  i.  e.,  above  any 
root  spread.  There  was  plenty  of  timber  of  similar 
height.    Black  spruce,  a  smaller  kind,  and  tamarack 


t 


■  ■■ 


»♦•» 


Tin-  1 1 1 \ < •  s c > 1 1 l;-  (if  tin-  Richardson  Owl 


WITH   THE   MOUNTED   POLICE  31 

are  found  farther  up  and  hack  in  the  I>og  country. 
jackpine  of  fair  size  abounds  on  the  sandy  and  gravelly 
parts.  Balsam  poplar  is  the  largesl  deciduous  tree;  its 
superb  legions  in  upright  ranks  are  crowded  along  all 
the  river  banks  and  on  the  islands  not  occupied  by  the 
spruce.  The  large  trees  of  this  kind  often  have  deep 
holes;  these  are  the  nesting  sites  of  the  Whistler  Duck, 
which  is  found  in  numbers  here  and  as  far  north  as 
this  tree,  but  not  farther.    White  poplar  is  plentiful 


Male  Lynx.     June  a,  1907 

also;  the  hillsides  are  beautifully  clad  with  its  pur- 
plish masses  of  twigs,  through  which  its  white  stems 
gleam  like  marble  columns.  White  birch  is  common 
and  large  enough  for  canoes.  Two  or  three  species  of 
willow  in  impenetrable  thickets  make  up  the  rest  of 
the  forest  stretches. 

At  this  camp  I  had  the  unique  experience  of  showing 
all  these  seasoned  Westerners  thai  it  was  possible  to 
make  a  fire  by  the  friction  of  two  sticks.  This  has  long 
been  a  specialty  of  mine;  I  use  a  thong  and  a  bow  as 
the  simplest  way.  Ordinarily  1  prefer  balsam-fir  or 
tamarack;  in  this  case  I  used  a  balsam  block  and  a 
spruce  drill,  and,  although  each  kind  failed  when  used 


32  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

with  drill  and  block  the  same,  I  got  the  fire  in  half  a 
minute. 

On  June  3  we  left  this  camp  of  tall  timber.  As  we 
floated  down  we  sighted  a  Lynx  on  the  bank  looking 
contemplatively  into  the  flood.  One  of  the  police  boys 
seized  a  gun  and  with  a  charge  of  No.  6  killed  the 
Lynx.  Poor  thing,  it  was  in  a  starving  condition,  as 
indeed  are  most  meat-eaters  this  year  in  the  north. 
Though  it  was  fully  grown,  it  weighed  but  15  pounds. 


Poplar  Point,  Athabaska  River,  from  north 

In  its  stomach  was  part  of  a  sparrow  (white-throat?) 
and  a  piece  of  rawhide  an  inch  wide  and  4  feet  long, 
evidently  a  portion  of  a  dog-harness  picked  up  some- 
where along  the  river.  I  wonder  what  he  did  with 
the  bells. 

That  night  we  decided  to  drift,  leaving  one  man  on 
guard.  Next  day,  as  we  neared  Lake  Athabaska,  the 
shores  got  lower,  and  the  spruce  disappeared,  giving 
way  to  dense  thickets  of  low  willow.  Here  the  long 
expected  steamer,  Graham,  passed,  going  upstream. 
We  now  began  to  get  occasional  glimpses  of  Lake 
Athabaska  across  uncertain  marshes  and  sand  bars. 
It  was  very  necessary  to  make  Fort  Chipewyan  while 
there  was  a  calm,  so  we  pushed  on.  After  four  hours' 
groping  among  blind  channels  and  mud  banks,  we 
reached  the  lake  at  midnight — though  of  course  there 


Mouth  of  Peace  River 


WITH  THE  MOUNTED  POLICE  33 

was  no  night,  but  a  sort  of  gloaming  even  at  the 
darkest — and  it  took  us  four  hours'  hard  rowing  to 
cover  the  ten  miles  that  separated  us  from  Chipewyan. 

It  sounds  very  easy 
and  commonplace 
when  one  says  "hard 
rowing,"  but  it  takes 
on  more  significance 
when  one  is  reminded 
that  those  oars  were  18  feet  long,  5  inches  through 
and  weighed  about  20  pounds  each;  the  boat  was  30 
feet  long,  a  demasted  schooner  indeed,  and  rowing  her 
through  shallow  muddy  water,  where  the  ground  suc- 
tion was  excessive,  made  labour  so  heav}r  that  15- 
minute  spells  were  all  any  one  could  do.  We  formed 
four  relays,  and  all  worked  in  turn  all  night  through, 
arriving  at  Chipewyan  4  a.  m.,  blistered,  sore,  and 
completely  tired  out. 

Fort  Chipewyan  (pronounced  Chip-we-yan)  was  Billy 

Loutit's  home,  and  here  we  met  his  father,  mother, 

and  numerous  as  well  as  interesting  sisters.    Mean- 

^  while   I   called 

Mm  — t^feSSS^     a^  *ne  R°man 

Slave  River.     June  6,  1907  Catholic  Mis- 

sion, under 
Bishop  Gruard,  and  the  rival  establishment,  under 
Reverend  Roberts,  good  men  all,  and  devoted  to  the 
cause,  but  loving  not  each  other.  The  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  however,  was  here,  as  everywhere  in  the 
north,  the  really  important  thing. 
There  was  a  long  stretch  of  dead  water  before  we 


34 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Crow's  Nest,  Fort  Smith  Landing 


could  resume  our  downward  drift,  and,  worse  than  that, 

there  was  such  a  flood  on  the  Peace  River  that  it  was 

backing  the  Athabaska,  that  is,  the  tide  of  the  latter  was 

reversed  on  the  Rocher  River, 
which  extends  twenty-five 
miles  between  here  and  Peace 
mouth.  To  meet  this,  I 
hired  Colin  Fraser's  steamer. 
We  left  Chipewyan  at  6.15; 
at  11.15  camped  below  the 
Peace  on  Great  Slave  River, 
and  bade  farewell  to  the 
steamer. 

The  reader  may  well  be 
puzzled  by  these  numerous 

names;  the  fact  is  the  Mackenzie,  the  Slave,  the  Peace, 

the  Rocher,  and  the  Unchaga  are  all  one  and  the  same 

river,  but,  unfortunate-  ^«„^_ 

ly,  the  early  explorers         «>.- 

thought  proper  to  give      .    ., 

it  a  new  name  each  time 

it  did  something,   such 

as  expand  into  a  lake. 

By  rights  it  should  be 

the  Unchaga  or  Unjiza, 

from  the  Rockies  to  the  Arctic,  with  the  Athabaska 

as  its  principal  southern  tributary. 

The  next  day  another  Lynx  was  collected.     In  its 

stomach  were  remains  of  a  Redsquirrel,  a  Chipmunk, 

and  a  Bog-lemming.    The  last  was  important  as  it 

made  a  new  record. 


Female  Lynx.    June  6,  1907 


WITH   THE  MOUNTED  POLICE 


35 


The  Athabaska  is  a  great  river,  the  Peace  is  a  greater, 
and  the  Slave,  formed  by  their  union,  is  worthy  of  its 
p:i rents.  Its  placid  flood  is  here  nearly  a  mile  wide, 
and  its  banks  are  covered  with  a  great  continuous  forest 
of  spruce  trees  <>f  tin*  largest  size.  How  far  back  this 
extends  I  do  not  know,  but  the  natives  say  the  best 
timber  is  along  the  river. 

More  than  once  a  Lynx  was  seen  trotting  by  or  star- 
ing at  us  from  the  bank,  but  no  other  large  animal. 

On  the  night  of  June  7  we  reached  Smith  Landing. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  CONFERENCE   WITH   THE   CHIEFS 

A  few  bands  of  Buffalo  are  said  to  exist  in  the  coun- 
try east  of  Great  Slave  River.  Among  other  matters, 
Major  Jarvis  had  to  report  on  these,  find  out  how  many 
were  left,  and  exactly  where  they  were.  When  he  in- 
vited me  to  join  his  expedition,  with  these  questions 
in  view,  I  needed  no  pressing. 

Our  first  business  was  to  get  guides,  and  now  our 
troubles  began. 

Through  the  traders  we  found  four  natives  who 
knew  the  Buffalo  range — they  were  Kiya,  Sousi,  Kirma, 
and  Peter  Squirrel.  However,  they  seemed  in  no  way 
desirous  of  guiding  any  one  into  that  country.  They 
dodged  and  delayed  and  secured  many  postponements, 
but  the  Royal  Mounted  Police  and  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  are  the  two  mighty  powers  of  the  land,  so, 
urged  by  an  officer  of  each,  these  worthies  sullenly 
assembled  to  meet  us  in  Sousi's  cabin. 

Sousi,  by  the  way,  is  Chipewyan  for  Joseph,  and  this 
man's  name  was  Joseph  Beaulieu.  Other  northern 
travellers  have  warned  all  that  came  after  them  to  be- 
ware of  the  tribe  of  Beaulieu,  so  we  were  on  guard. 

Sullen  silence  greeted  us  as  we  entered;  we  could  feel 
their  covert  antagonism.  Jarvis  is  one  of  those  affable, 
good-tempered  individuals  that  most  persons  take  for 
"easy."    In  some  ways  he  may  be  so,  but  I  soon  real- 

36 


A  CONFERENCE  WITH  THE  CHIEFS     37 

feed  that  he  was  a  keen  judge  of  men  and  their  ways, 
and  he  whispered  to  me:  "They  mean  to  block  us  if 
possible."  Sousi  understood  French  and  had  some 
English,  but  the  others  professed  ignorance  of  every- 
thing but  Chipewyan.  So  it  was  necessary  to  call  in 
an  interpreter.  How  admirably  he  served  us  may  be 
judged  from  the  following  sample  secured  later. 

Q.  Are  the  Buffalo  near? 

A.  Wah-hay-was-ki  busquow  Kai-ah  taw  nip-ee-wat- 
chow-es-kee  nee-moy-ah.  Kee-as-o-win  sug-ee-meesh 
i-mush-wa  mus-tat-e-muck  ne-mow-ah  pe-muk-te-ok  ne- 
moy-ah  dane-tay-tay-ah. 

Interpreter.  He  say  "no." 

Q.  How  long  would  it  take  to  get  them? 

A.  Ne-moy-ah  mis-chay-to-ok  Way-hay-o  ay-ow-ok-i- 
man-kah-mus-to-ok.  Mis-ta-hay  cha-gow-os-ki  wah-hay-o 
musk-ee-see-seepi.  Mas-kootch  e-goot-ah-i-ow  mas-kootch 
ne-moy-ah  muk-e-boy  sak-te-muk  mas-kootch  gahk-sin- 
now  ne-moy-ah  gehk-kee-win-tay  dam-foole-Inglis. 

Interpreter.  He  say  "  don't  know." 

Q.  Can  you  go  with  us  as  guide? 

A.  Kee-ya-ivah-lee  nas-bah  a-lash-tay  ivah-lee-lee 
lan-day.  (Answer  literally)  "Yes,  I  could  go  if  I 
could  leave  the  transport." 

Interpreter's  answer,  "Mebby." 

After  a  couple  of  hours  of  this  bootless  sort  of  thing 
we  had  made  no  headway  toward  getting  a  guide,  nor 
could  we  get  definite  information  about  the  Buffaloes 
or  the  Wolves.  Finally  the  meeting  suffered  a  sort  of 
natural  disintegration. 

Next  day  we  tried  again,   but  again  there  were 


38  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

technical  difficulties,  grown  up  like  mushrooms  over 
night. 

Kiya  could  not  go  or  lend  his  horses,  because  it  was 
mostly  Squirrel's  country,  and  he  was  afraid  Squirrel 
would  not  like  it.  Squirrel  could  not  go  because  it 
would  be  indelicate  of  him  to  butt  in  after  negotia- 
tions had  been  opened  with  Kiya.  Kirma  was  not 
well.  Sousi  could  not  go  because  his  wife  was  sick, 
and  it  preyed  on  his  mind  so  that  he  dare  not  trust 
himself  away  from  the  settlement;  at  least,  not  with- 
out much  medicine  to  fortify  him  against  rheumatism, 
home-sickness,  and  sadness. 

Next  day  Kiya  sent  word  that  he  had  business  of 
great  moment,  and  could  not  meet  us,  but  would  see 
that  early  in  the  morning  Squirrel  was  notified  to 
come  and  do  whatever  we  wished.  In  the  morning 
Squirrel  also  had  disappeared,  leaving  word  that  he 
had  quite  overlooked  a  most  important  engagement 
to  " portage  some  flour  across  the  rapids,"  not  that  he 
loved  the  tump  line,  but  he  had  "promised,"  and  to 
keep  his  word  was  very  precious  to  him. 

Jarvis  and  I  talked  it  over  and  reviewed  the  infor- 
mation we  had.  At  Ottawa  it  was  reported  that  the 
Wolves  were  killing  the  calves,  so  the  Buffalo  did  not  in- 
crease. At  Winnipeg  the  Wolves  were  so  bad  that  they 
killed  yearlings;  at  Edmonton  the  cows  were  not  safe. 

At  Chipewyan  the  Wolves,  reinforced  by  large  bands 
from  the  Barren  Grounds,  were  killing  the  young  Buf- 
falo, and  later  the  cows  and  young  bulls.  At  Smith's 
Landing  the  Wolves  had  even  tackled  an  old  bull 
whose  head  was  found  with  the  large  bones.    Horses 


A  CONFERENCE  WITH  THE  CHIEFS     39 

and  dogs  were  now  being  devoured.    Terrible  battles 

were  taking  place  between  the  dark  Wolves  of  Peace 
River  and  the  White  Wolves  of  the  Barrens  for  posses- 
sion of  the  Buffalo  grounds.  Of  course  the  Buffalo  were 
disappearing;  about  a  hundred  were  all  that  were  left. 

But  no  one  ever  sees  any  of  these  terrible  Wolves, 
the  few  men  who  know  that  country  have  plenty  of 
pemmican,  that  is  neither  Moose  nor  Caribou,  and  the 
Major  briefly  summed  up  the  situation:  "The  Wolves 
are  indeed  playing  havoc  with  the  Buffalo,  and  the 
ravenous  leaders  of  the  pack  are  called  Sousi,  Kiya, 
Kirma,  and  Squirrel." 

Now  of  all  the  four,  Sousi,  being  a  Beaulieu  and  a 
half-breed,  had  the  worst  reputation,  but  of  all  the 
four  he  was  the  only  one  that  had  admitted  a  possi- 
bility of  guiding  us,  and  was  to  be  found  on  the  fifth 
morning.  So  his  views  were  met,  a  substitute  found 
to  watch  his  fishing  -nets,  groceries  to  keep  his  wife 
from  pining  during  his  absence,  a  present  for  himself, 
the  regular  rate  of  wages  doubled,  his  horses  hired, 
his  rheumatism,  home-sickness,  and  sadness  provided 
against,  a  present  of  tobacco,  some  more  presents,  a 
promise  of  reward  for  every  Buffalo  shown,  then  an- 
other present,  and  we  set  out. 


Rake.    Smith  Landing,  June  12, 

1907.    Typical  of  agriculture 

on  Great  Slave  River 


CHAPTER  VI 

OUT  WITH  SOUSI   BEAULIEU 

It's  a  fine  thing  to  get  started,  however  late  in  the  day, 
and  though  it  was  3.20  p.  m.  before  everything  was 
ready,  we  gladly  set  out — Sousi,  Major  Jarvis,  and  my- 
self— all  mounted,  the  native  leading  a  pack-horse  with 
provisions. 

And  now  we  had  a  chance  to  study  our  guide.  A 
man's  real  history  begins,  of  course,  about  twenty 
years  before  he  is  born.  In  the  middle  of  the  last 
century  was  a  notorious  old  ruffian  named  Beaulieu. 
Montreal  was  too  slow  for  him,  so  he  invaded  the 
north-west  with  a  chosen  crew  of  congenial  spirits. 
His  history  can  be  got  from  any  old  resident  of  the 
north-west.  I  should  not  like  to  write  it  as  it  was 
told  to  me. 

His  alleged  offspring  are  everywhere  in  the  country, 
and  most  travellers  on  their  return  from  this  region, 
sound  a  note  of  warning:  "Look  out  for  every  one  of 
the  name  of  Beaulieu.  They  are  a  queer  lot."  And  now 
we  had  committed  ourselves  and  our  fortunes  into  the 
hands  of  Beaulieu 's  second  or  twenty-second  son — I 
could  not  make  sure  which.  He  is  a  typical  half-breed, 
of  medium  height,  thin,  swarthy,  and  very  active, 
although  he  must  be  far  past  60.    Just  how  far  is  not 

40 


OUT  WITH  SOUSI  BEAULIEU 


41 


known,  whether  59  69  or  79,  he  himself  seemed  un- 
certain, but  he  knows  there  is  a  9  in  it.  The  women 
of  Smith's  Landing  say  59,  the  men  say  7(.»  or  89. 

He  is  clad  in  what  might  be  the  cast-off  garments 
of  a  white  tramp,  except  for  his  beaded  moccasins. 
However  sordid  these  people  may  be  in  oilier  parts 
of  their  attire,  I  note  that  they  always  have  some 
redeeming  touch  of  color  and  beauty  about  the  moc- 

■••'  rv-i^Vp  ffin 


Camp  on  Salt  River.     June  13,  1907 

casins  which  cover  their  truly  shapely  feet.  Sousi's 
rifle,  a  Winchester,  also  was  clad  in  a  native  mode. 
An  embroidered  cover  of  moose  leather  protected  it 
night  and  day,  except  when  actually  in  use;  of  his 
weapons  he  took  most  scrupulous  care.  Unlike  the 
founder  of  the  family,  Sousi  has  no  children  of  his  own. 
But  he  has  reared  a  dozen  waifs  under  prompting  of 
his  own  kind  heart.  Ur  is  quite  a  character— does  not 
drink  or  smoke,  and  I  never  heard  him  swear.  This 
is  not  because  he  does  not  know  how,  for  he  is  con- 
versant with  the  vigor  of  all  the  five  languages  of  the 
country,  and  the  garment  of  his  thought  is  like  Joseph's 
coat.     Ethnologically  speaking,  its  breadth  and  sub- 


42  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

stance  are  French,  but  it  bears  patches  of  English,  with 
flowers  and  frills,  strophes,  and  classical  allusions  of 
Cree  and  Chipewyan — the  last  being  the  language  of 
his  present  "home  circle." 

There  was  one  more  peculiarity  of  our  guide  that 
struck  me  forcibly.  He  was  forever  considering  his 
horse.  Whenever  the  trail  was  very  bad,  and  half  of 
it  was,  Sousi  dismounted  and  walked — the  horse  usu- 
ally following  freely,  for  the  pair  were  close  friends. 

This,  then,  was  the  dark  villain  against  whom  we 
had  been  warned.  How  he  lived  up  to  his  reputation 
will  be  seen  later. 

After  four  hours'  march  through  a  level,  swampy 
country,  forested  with  black  and  white  spruce,  black 
and  white  poplar,  birch,  willow,  and  tamarack,  we  came 
to  Salt  River,  a  clear,  beautiful  stream,  but  of  weak, 
salty  brine. 

Not  far  away  in  the  woods  was  a  sweet  spring,  and 
here  we  camped  for  the  night.  Close  by,  on  a  place  re- 
cently burnt  over,  I  found  the  nest  of  a  Green-winged 
Teal.  All  cover  was  gone  and  the  nest  much  singed, 
but  the  down  had  protected  the  10  eggs.  The  old  one 
fluttered  off,  played  lame,  and  tried  to  lead  me  away. 
I  covered  up  the  eggs  and  an  hour  later  found  she  had 
returned  and  resumed  her  post. 

That  night,  as  I  sat  by  the  fire  musing,  I  went  over 
my  life  when  I  was  a  boy  in  Manitoba,  just  too  late  to 
see  the  Buffalo,  recalling  how  I  used  to  lie  in  some  old 
Buffalo  wallow  and  peer  out  over  the  prairie  through 
the  fringe  of  spring  anemones  and  long  to  see  the  big 
brown  forms  on  the  plains.    Once  in  those  days  I  got 


OUT  WITH  SOUSI  BEAULIEU  43 

a  sensation,  for  I  did  see  them.    They  turned  out  to 
be  a  herd  of  common  cattle,  but  still  I  got  the  thrill. 

Now  I  was  on  a  real  Buffalo  hunt,  some  twenty-five 
years  too  late.  Will  it  come?  Am  I  really  to  see  the 
Wild  Buffalo  on  its  native  plains?  It  is  too  good  to 
be  true;  too  much  like  tipping  back  the  sands  of  time. 


Anemones.    June  15, 1907 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   BUFFALO   HUNT 

We  left  camp  on  Salt  River  at  7.45  in  the  morning 
and  travelled  till  11  o'clock,  covering  six  miles.  It 
was  all  through  the  same  level  country,  in  which  wil- 
low swamps  alternated  with  poplar  and  spruce  ridges. 
At  11  it  began  to  rain,  so  we  camped  on  a  slope  under 
some  fine,  big  white  spruces  till  it  cleared,  and  then  con- 
tinued westward.  The  country  now  undulated  some- 
what and  was  varied  with  openings. 

Sousi  says  that  when  first  he  saw  this  region,  30 
years  ago,  it  was  all  open  prairie,  with  timber  only  in 
hollows  and  about  water.  This  is  borne  out  by  the 
facts  that  all  the  large  trees  are  in  such  places,  and 
that  all  the  level  open  stretches  are  covered  with  sap- 
ling growths  of  aspen  and  fir.  This  will  make  a 
glorious  settlement  some  day.  In  plants,  trees,  birds, 
soil,  climate,  and  apparently  all  conditions,  it  is  like 
Manitoba. 

We  found  the  skeleton  of  a  cow  Buffalo,  apparently 
devoured  by  Wolves  years  ago,  because  all  the  big 
bones  were  there  and  the  skull  unbroken. 

About  two  in  the  afternoon  we  came  up  a  200-foot 
rise  to  a  beautiful  upland  country,  in  which  the  forests 
were  diversified  with  open  glades,  and  which  every- 
where showed  a  most  singular  feature.    The  ground  is 

44 


Bear-claw    marks   mi    tree 


THE  BUFFALO  HUNT  45 

pitted  all  over  with  funnel-shaped  holes,  from  G  to  40 
feet  deep,  and  of  equal  width  across  the  rim;  none  of 
them  contained  water.  I  saw  one  100  feet  across  and 
about  50  feet  deep;  some  expose  limestone;  in  one 
place  we  saw  granite. 

At  first  T  took  these  for  extinct  geysers,  but  later  I 
learned  that  the  whole  plateau  called  Salt  Mountain  is 
pitted  over  with  them.  Brine  is  running  out  of  the 
mountain  in  great  quantities,  which  means  that  the 
upper  strata  are  being  undermined  as  the  salt  washes 
out,  and,  as  these  crack,  the  funnels  are  formed  no 
doubt  by  the  loose  deposits  settling. 

In  the  dry  woods  Bear  tracks  became  extremely 
numerous;  the  whole  country,  indeed,  was  marked  with 
the  various  signs.  Practically  even-  big  tree  has  bear- 
claw  markings  on  it,  and  every  few  }Tards  there  is  evi- 
dence that  the  diet  of  the  bears  just  now  is  chiefly 
berries  of  Uva  ursi. 

As  we  rode  along  Sousi  prattled  cheerfully  in  his 
various  tongues;  but  his  steady  flow  of  conversation 
abruptly  ended  when,  about  2  p.  m.,  we  came  suddenly 
on  sonic  Buffalo  tracks,  days  old,  but  still  Buffalo 
tracks.  All  at  once  and  completely  he  was  the  hunter. 
Ife  leaped  from  his  horse  and  led  away  like  a  hound. 

Ere  long,  of  course,  the  trail  was  crossed  by  two 
fresher  ones;  then  we  found  some  dry  wallows  and 
ral  very  fresh  tracks.  We  tied  up  the  horses  in  an 
old  funnel  pit  and  set  about  an  elaborate  hunt.  Jarvis 
minded  the  stock,  I  set  out  with  Sousi,  after  he  had 
tried  the  wind  by  tossing  up  some  grass.  But  he 
stopped,  drew  a  finger-nail  sharply  across  my  canvas 


46  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

coat,  so  that  it  gave  a  little  shriek,  and  said  "Va  pa/' 
which  is  "Cela  ne  va  pas"  reduced  to  its  bony  frame- 
work. I  doffed  the  offending  coat  and  we  went  for- 
ward as  shown  on  the  map.  The  horses  were  left  at 
A;  the  wind  was  east.  First  we  circled  a  little  to  east- 
ward, tossing  grass  at  intervals,  but,  finding  plenty  of 
new  sign,  went  northerly  and  westward  till  most  of  the 

N 


x  x  x  x  course  taken  when  I  got  lost.    At  F  I  turned 

back  to  the  lake,     s  s  s  shows  Sousi  's  course 

when  stalking  the  Buffalo 

new  sign  was  east  of  us.  Sousi  then  led  for  C,  telling 
me  to  step  in  his  tracks  and  make  no  noise.  I  did  so 
for  long,  but  at  length  a  stick  cracked  under  my  foot ; 
he  turned  and  looked  reproachfully  at  me.  Then  a 
stick  cracked  under  his  foot;  I  gave  him  a  poke  in  the 
ribs.  When  we  got  to  the  land  between  the  lakes 
at  D,  Sousi  pointed  and  said,  "They  are  here."  We 
sneaked  with  the  utmost  caution  that  way — it  was  im- 
possible to  follow  any  one  trail — and  in  200  yards  Sousi 
sank  to  the  ground  gasping  out,  "La!  la!  maintenon 
faites  son   portrait  au  tant   que  vous  voudrez."    I 


THE  BUFFALO  HUNT 


47 


crawled  forward  and  saw,  not  one,  but  half  a  dozen 
Buffalo.  "I  must  be  nearer,"  I  said,  and,  lying  flat  on 
my  breast,  crawled,  toes  and  elbows,  up  to  a  bush 
within  75  yards,  where  I  made  shot  No.  1,  and  saw 
here  that  there  were  8  or  9  Buffalo,  one  an  immense 
bull. 

Sousi   now   cocked   his   rifle — I  said  emphatically: 
"Stop!  you  must  not  fire."     "No?"  he  said  in  aston- 


J*~u.  c*^  Un****. 


.« 


^ 


Tracks  of  Buffalo 


ished  tones  that  were  full  of  story  and  comment. 
"What  did  we  come  for?"  Now  I  saw  that  by  back- 
ing out  and  crawling  to  another  bunch  of  herbage  I 
could  get  within  50  yards. 

"It  is  not  possible,"  he  gasped. 

"Watch  me  and  see,"  I  replied.  Gathering  all  the 
near  vines  and  twisting  them  around  my  neck,  I  cov- 
ered my  head  with  leaves  and  creeping  plants,  then 
proceeded  to  show  that  it  was  possible,  while  Sousi 
followed.    I  reached  the  cover  and  found  it  was  a  bed 


48 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


of  spring  anemones  on  the  far  side  of  an  old  Buffalo 
wallow,  and  there  in  that  wallow  I  lay  for  a  moment 
revelling  in  the  sight.  All  at  once  it  came  to  me: 
Now,  indeed,  was  fulfilled  the  long-deferred  dream  of 
my  youth,  for  in  shelter  of  those  flowers  of  my  youth,  I 
was  gazing  on  a  herd  of  wild  Buffalo.  Then  slowly  I 
rose  above  the  cover  and  took  my  second  picture. 


The  Buffalo  herd 

But  the  watchful  creatures,  more  shy  than  Moose  here, 
saw  the  rising  mass  of  herbage,  or  may  have  caught 
the  wind,  rose  lightly  and  went  off.  I  noticed  now,  for 
the  first  time,  a  little  red  calf;  ten  Buffalo  in  all  I 
counted.  Sousi,  standing  up,  counted  13.  At  the 
edge  of  the  woods  they  stopped  and  looked  around, 
but  gave  no  third  shot  for  the  camera. 

I  shook  Sousi's  hand  with  all  my  heart,  and  he,  good 
old  fellow,  said:    "Ah!  it  was  for  this  I  prayed  last 


THE  BUFFALO  HUNT  49 

night;  without  doubt  il  was  in  answer  to  my  prayer 
that  the  Good  God  has  sent  me  this  great  happiness." 

Thru  back  at  camp,  200  yards  away,  the  old  man's 
tongue  was  loosed,  and  he  told  me  how  the  chiefs  in 
conference,  and  every  one  at  the  Fort,  had  ridiculed 
him  and  his  Englishmen — "who  thought  they  could 
walk  up  to  Buffalo  and  take  their  pictures." 

We  had  not  been  long  in  camp  when  Sousi  went  off 
to  get  some  water,  but  at  onee  came  running  back, 
shouting  excitedly,  "My  rifle,  my  rifle!"  Jarvis 
handed  it  to  him;  he  rushed  off  to  the  woods.  I  fol- 
lowed in  time  to  see  him  shoot  an  old  Bear  and  two 
cubs  out  of  a  tree.  She  fell,  sobbing  like  a  human 
being,  "Oh!  Oh!  Oh-h-h-h!"  It  was  too  late  to  stop 
him,  and  he  finished  her  as  she  lay  helpless.  The  little 
ones  were  too  small  to  live  alone,  so  shared  her  fate. 

It  seems,  as  Sousi  wTent  to  the  water  hole,  he  came 
on  an  old  Bear  and  her  two  cubs.  She  gave  a  warning 
"koff,  koff."  The  only  enemies  they  knew  about  and 
feared,  were  Buffalo,  Moose,  and  Wolves;  from  these  a 
tree  was  a  safe  haven.  The  cubs  scrambled  up  a  tall 
poplar,  then  the  mother  followed.  Sousi  came  shouting 
in  apparent  fear;  I  rushed  to  the  place,  thinking  he 
was  attacked  by  something,  perhaps  a  Buffalo  bull, 
but  too  late  to  stop  the  tragedy  that  followed. 

That  night  he  roasted  one  of  the  cubs,  and  as  I 
watched  the  old  cannibal  chewing  the  hands  off  that 
little  baby  Bear  it  gave  me  a  feeling  of  disgust  for  all 
flesh-eating  that  lasted  for  days.  Major  Jarvis  felt 
much  as  I  did,  and  old  Sousi  had  exclusive  joy  in  all 
his  bear  meat. 


50  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

Next  morning  I  was  left  at  camp  while  Jarvis  and 
Sousi  went  off  to  seek  for  more  Buffalo.  I  had  a  pre- 
sentiment that  they  would  find  none,  so  kept  the 
camera  and  went  off  to  the  Lake  a  mile  west,  and  there 
made  drawings  of  some  tracks,  took  photos,  etc.,  and 
on  the  lake  saw  about  twenty-five  pairs  of  ducks, 
identified  Whitewinged  Scoter,  Pintail,  Green-winged 
Teal,  and  Loon.  I  also  watched  the  manoeuvres  of  a 
courting  Peetweet.     He  approached  the  only  lady  with 


mXrJ 

Tracks  of  the  Blackbear 


ft.. 


his  feathers  up  and  his  wings  raised ;  she  paid  no  heed 
(apparently),  but  I  noticed  that  when  he  flew  away 
she  followed.  I  saw  a  large  garter  snake  striped  black 
and  green,  and  with  2  rows  of  red  spots,  one  on  each 
side.  It  was  very  fat  and  sluggish.  I  took  it  for  a 
female  about  to  lay.  Later  I  learned  from  Sousi  and 
others  that  this  snake  is  quite  common  here,  and  the 
only  kind  found,  but  in  the  mountains  that  lie  not  far 
away  in  the  west  is  another  kind,  much  thicker,  fatter, 
and  more  sluggish.  Its  bite  is  fearfully  poisonous, 
often  fatal;  "but  the  Good  God  has  marked  the  beast 
by  putting  a  cloche  (bell)  in  its  tail." 

About  10  I  turned  camp  ward,  but  after  tramping 
for  nearly  an  hour  I  was  not  only  not  at  home,  I  was  in 
a  totally  strange  kind  of  country,  covered  with  a  con- 


THE  BUFFALO  HUNT  51 

tinuous  poplar  woods.  I  changed  my  course  and  tried 
a  different  direction,  but  soon  was  forced  to  the  con- 
clusion that  (for  the  sixth  or  seventh  time  in  my  life) 
I  was  lost. 

"Dear  me,"  T  said,  "this  is  an  interesting  oppor- 
tunity. It  comes  to  me  now  that  I  once  wrote  an 
essay  on  'What  To  Do  and  What  Not  To  Do  When 
Lost  In  the  Woods.'  Now  what  in  the  world  did  I  say 
in  it.  and  which  were  the  things  not  to  do.  Yes,  I  re- 
member now,  these  were  the  pieces  of  advice: 

"1st.  'Don't  get  frightened.'  Well,  I'm  not;  I  am 
simply  amused. 

"2d.  'Wait  for  your  friends  to  come.'  Can't  do 
that;  I'm  too  busy;  they  wouldn't  appear  till  night. 

"3d.  'If  you  must  travel,  go  back  to  a  place  where 
you  were  sure  of  the  way.'  That  means  back  to  the 
lake,  which  I  know  is  due  west  of  the  camp  and  must 
be  west  of  me  now." 

So  back  I  went,  carefully  watching  the  sun  for  guid- 
ance, and  soon  realised  that  whenever  I  did  not,  I  swung 
to  the  left.  After  nearly  an  hour's  diligent  travel  I  did 
get  back  to  the  lake,  and  followed  my  own  track  in  the 
margin  to  the  point  of  leaving  it;  then,  with  a  careful 
corrected  bearing,  made  for  camp  and  arrived  in  40 
minutes,  there  to  learn  that  on  the  first  attempt  I  had 
swung  so  far  to  the  left  that  I  had  missed  camp  by 
half  a  mile,  and  was  half  a  mile  beyond  it  before  I  knew 
I  was  wrong.     (See  map  on  p.  46.) 

At  noon  Jarvis  and  Sousi  came  back  jubilant;  they 
had  seen  countless  Buffalo  trails,  had  followed  a  large 
bull  and  cow,  but  had  left  them  to  take  the  trail  of  a 


52 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


considerable  Band;  these  they  discovered  in  a  lake. 
There  were  4  big  bulls,  4  little  calves,  1  yearling,  3 
2-year-olds,  8  cows.  These  allowed  them  to  come 
openly  within  60  yards.  Then  took  alarm  and  gal- 
loped off.    They  also  saw  a  Moose  and  a  Marten — and 


,*">tififa. 


Buffalo  dry  wallows  for  the  relief  from  flies 


2  Buffalo  skeletons.  How  I  did  curse  my  presenti- 
ment that  prevented  them  having  the  camera  and 
securing  a  really  fine  photograph! 

At  2  p.  m.  Sousi  prepared  to  break  camp.  He 
thought  that  by  going  back  on  our  trail  he  might 
strike  the  trail  of  another  herd  off  to  the  south-east 
of  the  mountain.  Jarvis  shrewdly  suspected  that  our 
guide  wanted  to  go  home,  having  kept  his  promise, 
won  the  reward,  and  got  a  load  of  Bear  meat.    How- 


THE   BUFFALO    BUNT 

ever,  the  native  was  the  guide,  we  set  out  in  a  shower 
which  continued  more  or  less  all  day  and  into  the 
night,  SO  we  camped  in  the  rain. 

Next  day  it  was  obvious,  and  Sousi  no  longer  con- 
cealed the  fact,  that  he  was  making  for  home  as  fast  as 
he  could  go. 

At  Salt  River  I  found  the  little  Teal  hack  on  her 
eggs  in  the  burnt  ground.  At  3.30  we  reached  Smith 
Landing,  having  been  absent  exactly  3  days,  and  hav- 
ing seen  in  that  time  33  Buffalo,  4  of  them  calves  of 
this  year,  3  old  Buffalo  skeletons  of  ancient  date,  but 
not  a  track  or  sign  of  a  Wolf,  not  a  howl  by  night,  or 
any  evidence  of  their  recent  presence,  for  the  buffalo 
skeletons  found  were  obviously  very  old. 

And  our  guide — the  wicked  one  of  evil  ancestry  and 
fame — he  was  kind,  cheerful,  and  courteous  through- 
out; he  did  exactly  as  he  promised,  did  it  on  time,  and 
was  well  pleased  with  the  pay  we  gave  him.  Speak  as 
you  find.  If  ever  I  revisit  that  country  I  shall  be  glad 
indeed  to  secure  the  services  of  good  old  Sousi,  even 
if  he  is  a  Beaulieu. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THOMAS  ANDERSON 

We  were  now  back  at  Smith  Landing,  and  fired  with 
a  desire  to  make  another  Buffalo  expedition  on  which 
we  should  have  ampler  time  and  cover  more  than  a 
mere  corner  of  the  range.  We  aimed,  indeed,  to  strike 
straight  into  the  heart  of  the  Buffalo  country.  The 
same  trouble  about  guides  arose.  In  this  case  it  was 
less  acute,  because  Sousi's  account  had  inspired  con- 
siderably more  respect.  Still  it  meant  days  of  delay 
which,  however,  I  aimed  to  make  profitable  by  inves- 
tigations near  at  hand. 

After  all,  the  most  interesting  of  creatures  is  the 
two-legged  one  with  the  loose  and  changeable  skin, 
and  there  was  a  goodly  colony  of  the  kind  to  choose 
from.  Most  prominent  of  them  all  was  Thomas 
Anderson,  the  genial  Hudson's  Bay  Company  officer 
in  charge  of  the  Mackenzie  River  District.  His  head- 
quarters are  at  Fort  Smith,  16  miles  down  the  river, 
but  his  present  abode  was  Smith  Landing,  where  all 
goods  are  landed  for  overland  transport  to  avoid  the 
long  and  dangerous  navigation  on  the  next  16  miles  of 
the  broad  stream.  Like  most  of  his  official  brethren, 
he  is  a  Scotchman ;  he  was  born  in  Nairn,  Scotland,  in 
1848.    At  19  he  came  to  the  north-west  in  service  of 

54 


THOMAS  ANDERSON  55 

the  company,  and  his  long  and  adventurous  life,  as  he 
climbed  to  hie  present  responsible  position,  may  be 
thus  skeletonised: 

He  spent  six  months  at  Fort  Temiscamingue, 
1  year  at  Grand  Lac, 
3  years  at  Kakabonga, 

5  years  at  Hunter's  Lodge,  Chippeway, 
10  years  at  Abitibi, 

3  years  at  Dunvegan,  Peace  River, 

1  year  at  Lesser  Slave  Lake, 

2  months  at  Savanne,  Fort  William, 
10  years  at  Nipigon  House, 

3  years  at  Isle  a  la  Crosse, 

4  years  on  the  Mackenzie  River,  chiefly  at  Fort 
Simpson, 

6  months  at  Fort  Smith. 

Which  tells  little  to  the  ears  of  the  big  world,  but  if 
we  Bay  that  he  spent  5  years  in  Berlin,  then  was  moved 
for  3  years  to  Gibraltar,  2  years  to  various  posts  on  the 
Rhine,  whence  he  went  for  4  years  to  St.  Petersburg; 
thence  to  relieve  the  officer  in  charge  of  Constantinople, 
and  made  several  flying  visits  to  Bombay  and  Pekin, 
we  shall  have  some  idea  of  his  travels,  for  all  were  afoot, 
on  dogsled,  or  by  canoe. 

What  wonderful  opportunities  he  had  to  learn  new 
facts  about  the  wood  folk — man  and  beast — and  how 
little  he  knew  the  value  of  the  glimpses  that  he  got! 
I  made  it  my  business  to  gather  all  I  could  of  his 
memories,  so  far  as  they  dwelt  with  the  things  of 
my  world,  and  offer  now  a  resume  of  his  more  in- 


56  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

teresting  observations  on  hunter  and  hunted  of  the 
North.1 

The  following  are  among  the  interesting  animal 
notes : 

Cougar.  Ogushen,  the  Indian  trapper  at  Lac  des 
Quinze,  found  tracks  of  a  large  cat  at  that  place  in  the 
fall  of  1879  (?).  He  saw  them  all  winter  on  South  Bay 
of  that  Lake.  One  day  he  came  on  the  place  where 
it  had  killed  a  Caribou.  When  he  came  back  about 
March  he  saw  it.  It  came  toward  him.  It  was  evi- 
dently a  cat  longer  than  a  Lynx  and  it  had  a  very 
long  tail,  which  swayed  from  side  to  side  as  it  walked. 
He  shot  it  dead,  but  feared  to  go  near  it  believing  it 
to  be  a  Wendigo.  It  had  a  very  bad  smell.  Ander- 
son took  it  to  be  a  Puma.  It  was  unknown  to  the 
Indian.  Ogushen  was  a  first-class  hunter  and  Ander- 
son firmly  believes  he  was  telling  the  truth.  Lac  des 
Quinze  is  15  miles  north  of  Lake  Temiscamingue. 

Seals.  In  old  days,  he  says,  small  seals  were  found 
in  Lake  Ashkeek.  This  is  50  miles  north-east  from 
Temiscamingue.  It  empties  into  Kippewa  River,  which 
empties  into  Temiscamingue.  He  never  saw  one,  but 
the  Indians  of  the  vicinity  told  of  it  as  a  thing  which 
commonly  happened  50  or  60  years  ago.  Ashkeek 
is  Ojibwa  for  seal.  It  is  supposed  that  they  wintered 
in  the  open  water  about  the  Rapids. 

White  Foxes,  he  says,  were  often  taken  at  Cree  Lake. 
Indeed  one  or  two  were  captured  each  year.  Cree 
Lake  is  190  miles  south-east  of  Fort  Chipewyan.     They 

1  Since  these  notes  were  made,  Thomas  Anderson  has  "crossed  the 
long  portage." 


THOMAS  ANDERSON  57 

are  also  taken  al  Fort  Chipewyaii  from  time  to  time. 

One  was  taken   al    Fondulac,  cast   end  of  Lake  Atha- 

baska,  and  was  traded  at  Smith  Landing  in  1906. 

They  are  found  regularly  at  Fondlllac,  the  east  end  of 
Great  Slave  Lake,  each  year. 

In  the  winter  of  1885-6  he  was  to  be  in  charge  of 
Nipigon  House,  but  got  orders  beforehand  to  visit  the 
posts  on  Albany  1  liver.  He  set  out  from  Fort  William 
on  Lake  Superior  on  his  1,200-mile  trip  through  the 
snow  with  an  Indian  whose  name  was  Joe  Eskimo,  from 
Manitoulin  Island,  400  miles  away.  At  Nipigon  House 
he  got  another  guide,  but  this  one  was  in  bad  shape1, 
spitting  blood.  After  three  days'  travel  the  guide 
said:  "I  will  go  to  the  end  if  it  kills  me,  because  I 
have  promised,  unless  1  can  get  you  a  better  guide. 
At  Wayabimika  (Lake  Savanne)  is  an  old  man  named 
Omeegi;  he  knows  the  road  better  than  I  do."  When 
they  got  there,  Omeegi,  although  very  old  and  half- 
blind,  was  willing  to  go  on  condition  that  they  should 
not  walk  too  fast.  Then  they  started  for  Osnaburgh 
House  on  Lake  St.  Joseph,  1">0  miles  away.  The  old 
man  led  off  well,  evidently  knew  the  way,  but  some- 
times would  stop,  cover  his  eyes  with  his  hands,  look 
at  the  ground  and  then  at  the  sky,  and  turn  on  a  sharp 
angle.  He  proved  a  fine  guide  and  brought  the  ex- 
pedition there  in  good  time. 

Next  winter  at  Wayabimika  (where  Charley  de  la 
Ronde  '  was  in  charge,  but  was  leaving  on  a  trip  of  10 
days)  Omeegi  came  in  and  asked  for  a  present — "a 
new  shirt  and  a  pair  of  pants."     This  is   the  usual 

1  ( mint  il<¥  La  Ronde. 


58  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

outfit  for  a  corpse.  He  explained  that  he  was  to  die 
before  Charley  came  back;  that  he  would  die  "when 
the  sun  rose  at  that  island"  (a  week  ahead).  He  got 
the  clothes,  though  every  one  laughed  at  him.  A  week 
later  he  put  on  the  new  garments  and  said:  "To-day  I 
die  when  the  sun  is  over  that  island!"  He  went  out, 
looking  at  the  sun  from  time  to  time,  placidly  smoking. 
When  the  sun  got  to  the  right  place  he  came  in,  lay 
down  by  the  fire,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  dead. 

We  buried  him  in  the  ground,  to  his  brother's 
great  indignation  when  he  heard  of  it.  He  said: 
"You  white  men  live  on  things  that  come  out  of  the 
ground,  and  are  buried  in  the  ground,  and  properly, 
but  we  Indians  live  on  things  that  run  above  ground, 
and  want  to  take  our  last  sleep  in  the  trees." 

Another  case  of  Indian  clairvo}Tance  ran  thus :  About 
1879,  when  Anderson  was  at  Abitibi,  the  winter  packet 
used  to  leave  Montreal,  January  2,  each  year,  and 
arrive  at  Abitibi  January  19.  This  year  it  did  not 
come.  The  men  were  much  bothered  as  all  plans  were 
upset.  After  waiting  about  two  weeks,  some  of  the 
Indians  and  half-breeds  advised  Anderson  to  consult 
the  conjuring  woman,  Mash-kou-tay  Ish-quay  (Prairie 
woman,  a  Flathead  from  Stuart  Lake,  B.  C).  He  went 
and  paid  her  some  tobacco.  She  drummed  and  con- 
jured all  night.  She  came  in  the  morning  and  told 
him:  "The  packet  is  at  the  foot  of  a  rapid  now,  where 
there  is  open  water;  the  snow  is  deep  and  the  trav- 
elling heavy,  but  it  will  be  here  to-morrow  when  the 
sun  is  at  that  point." 

Sure  enough,  it  all  fell  out  as  she  had  told.     This 


THOMAS  ANDERSON  59 

woman  married  a  Hudson's  Bay  man  named  Mac- 
Donald,  and  he  brought  her  to  Lachine,  where  she 
bore  him  3  sons;  then  he  died  of  small-pox,  and  Sir 
George  Simpson  gave  orders  that  she  should  be  sent 
up  to  Abitibi  and  there  pensioned  for  as  long  as  she 
lived.  She  was  about  75  at  the  time  of  the  incident. 
She  many  times  gave  evidence  of  clairvoyant  power. 
The  priest  said  he  "knew  about  it,  and  that  she  was 
helped  by  the  devil." 

A  gruesome  picture  of  Indian  life  is  given  in  the 
following  incident. 

One  winter,  40  or  50  years  ago,  a  band  of  Algonquin 
Indians  at  Wayabimika  all  starved  to  death  except  one 
squaw  and  her  baby;  she  fled  from  the  camp,  carry- 
ing the  child,  thinking  to  find  friends  and  help  at 
Nipigon  House.  She  got  as  far  as  a  small  lake  near  Deer 
Lake,  and  there  discovered  a  cache,  probably  in  a  tree. 
This  contained  one  small  bone  fish-hook.  She  rigged 
up  a  line,  but  had  no  bait.  The  wailing  of  the  baby 
spurred  her  to  action.  No  bait,  but  she  had  a  knife; 
a  strip  of  flesh  was  quickly  cut  from  her  own  leg,  a 
hole  made  through  the  ice,  and  a  fine  jack-fish  was 
the  food  that  was  sent  to  this  devoted  mother.  She 
divided  it  with  the  child,  saving  only  enougli  for  bait. 
She  stayed  there  living  on  fish  until  spring,  then  safely 
rejoined  her  people. 

The  boy  grew  up  to  be  a  strong  man,  but  was  cruel 
to  his  mother,  leaving  her  finally  to  die  of  starvation. 
Anderson  knew  the  woman;  she  showed  him  the  scar 
where  she  cut  the  bait. 

A  piece  of  yet  more  ancient  history  was  supplied 
him  in  Northern  Ontario,  and  related  to  me  thus: 


60  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

Anderson  was  going  to  Kakabonga  in  June,  1879, 
and  camped  one  night  on  the  east  side  of  Birch  Lake 
on  the  Ottawa,  about  50  miles  north-east  of  Grand 
Lake  Post. 

He  and  his  outfit  of  two  canoes  met  Pah-pah-tay, 
chief  of  the  Grand  Lake  Indians,  travelling  with  his 
family.  He  called  Anderson's  attention  to  the  shape 
of  the  point  which  had  one  good  landing-place,  a  little 
sandy  bay,  and  told  him  the  story  he  heard  from  his 
people  of  a  battle  that  was  fought  there  with  the 
Iroquois  long,  long  ago. 

Four  or  five  Iroquois  war-canoes,  filled  with  warriors, 
came  to  this  place  on  a  foray  for  scalps.  Their  canoes 
were  drawn  up  on  the  beach  at  night.  They  lighted 
fires  and  had  a  war-dance.  Three  Grand  Lake  Algon- 
quins,  forefathers  of  Pah-pah-tay,  saw  the  dance  from 
hiding.  They  cached  their  canoe,  one  of  them  took  a 
sharp  flint — "we  had  no  knives  or  axes  then" — swam 
across  to  the  canoes,  and  cut  a  great  hole  in  the  bottom 
of  each. 

The  three  then  posted  themselves  at  three  different 
points  in  the  bushes,  and  began  whooping  in  as  many 
different  ways  as  possible.  The  Iroquois,  thinking  it 
a  great  war-party,  rushed  to  their  canoes  and  pushed 
off  quickly.  When  they  were  in  deep  water  the  canoes 
sank  and,  as  the  warriors  swam  back  ashore,  the 
Algonquins  killed  them  one  by  one,  saving  alive  only 
one,  whom  they  maltreated,  and  then  let  go  with  a 
supply  of  food,  as  a  messenger  to  his  people,  and  to 
carry  the  warning  that  this  would  be  the  fate  of  every 
Iroquois  that  entered  the  Algonquin  country. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MOSQUITOES 

Reference  to  my  Smith  Landing  Journal  for  June  17 
shows  the  following: 

"The  Spring  is  now  on  in  full  flood,  the  grass  is 
high,  the  trees  are  fully  leaved,  flowers  are  blooming, 
birds  arc  nesting,  and  the  mosquitoes  are  a  terror  to 
man  and  beast." 

If  I  were;  to  repeat  all  the  entries  in  that  last  key,  it 
would  make  dreary  and  painful  reading;  I  shall  rather 
say   the   worst    right    now,  and    henceforth  avoid  the 

subject. 

Every  traveller  in  the  country  agrees  that  the  mos- 
quitoes are  a  frightful  curse.  Captain  Back,  in  1833 
(Journal,  p.  117),  said  that  the  sand-flies  and  mos- 
quitoes are  the  worst  of  the  hardships  to  which  the 
northern  traveller  is  exposed. 

T.  Hut  chins,  over  a  hundred  years  ago,  said  that  no 
one  enters  the  Barren  Grounds  in  the  summer,  because 
no  man  can  stand  the  stinging  insects.  I  had  read 
these  various  statements,  but  did  not  grasp  the  idea 
until  I  was  among  them.  At  Smith  Landing,  June  7, 
mosquitoes  began  to  be  troublesome,  quite  as  numer- 
ous as  in  the  worst  part  of  the  New  Jersey  marshes. 
An  estimate  of  those  on  the  mosquito  bar  over  my  bed, 
showed  000  to  1 ,000  t  rying  to  get  at  me;  day  and  night, 
without  change,  the  air  was  ringing  with  their  hum. 

61 


62  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

This  was  early  in  the  season.  On  July  9,  on  Nyarling 
River,  they  were  much  worse,  and  my  entry  was  as 
follows : 

"On  the  back  of  Billy's  coat,  as  he  sat  paddling 
before  me,  I  counted  a  round  400  mosquitoes  boring 
away;  about  as  many  were  on  the  garments  of  his 
head  and  neck,  a  much  less  number  on  his  arms  and 
legs.  The  air  about  was  thick  with  them;  at  least  as 
many  more,  fully  1,000,  singing  and  stinging  and  filling 
the  air  with  a  droning  hum.  The  rest  of  us  were 
equally  pestered. 

"The  Major,  fresh,  ruddy,  full-blooded,  far  over  200 
pounds  in  plumpness,  is  the  best  feeding  ground  for 
mosquitoes  I  (or  they,  probably)  ever  saw;  he  must 
be  a  great  improvement  on  the  smoke-dried  Indians. 
No  matter  where  they  land  on  him  they  strike  it  rich, 
and  at  all  times  a  dozen  or  more  bloated  bloodsuckers 
may  be  seen  hanging  like  red  currants  on  his  face  and 
neck.  He  maintains  that  they  do  not  bother  him,  and 
scoffs  at  me  for  wearing  a  net.  They  certainly  do  not 
impair  his  health,  good  looks,  or  his  perennial  good- 
humour,  and  I,  for  one,  am  thankful  that  his  superior 
food-quality  gives  us  a  corresponding  measure  of 
immunity." 

At  Salt  River  one  e^uld  kill  100  with  a  stroke  of  the 
palm,  and  at  times  they  obscured  the  colour  of  the 
horses.  A  little  later  they  were  much  worse.  On  6 
square  inches  of  my  tent  I  counted  30  mosquitoes,  and 
the  whole  surface  was  similarly  supplied;  that  is,  there 
were  24,000  on  the  tent  and  apparently  as  many 
more  flying  about  the  door.    Most  of  those  that  bite 


MOSQUITOES  63 

us  are  killed,  but  that  makes  not  the  slightest  percep- 
tible difference  in  their  manners  or  numbers.  They 
reminded  me  of  the  Klondike  gold-seekers.  Thousands 
go;  great  numbers  must  die  a  miserable  death;  not 
more  than  one  in  10,000  can  gel  away  with  a  load  of 
the  coveted  stuff,  and  yet  each  believes  that  he  is  to 
be  that  one,  and  pushes  on. 

Dr.  L.  0.  Howard  tells  us  that  the  mosquito  rarely 
goes  far  from  its  birthplace.  That  must  refer  to  the 
miserable  degenerates  they  have  in  New  Jersey,  for 
these  of  the  north  offer  endless  evidence  of  power  to 
travel,  as  well  as  to  resist  cold  and  wind. 

On  July  21,  1907,  we  camped  on  a  small  island  on 
Great  Slave  Lake.  It  was  about  one-quarter  mile 
long,  several  miles  from  mainland,  at  least  half  a  mile 
from  any  other  island,  apparently  all  rock,  and  yet  it 
was  swarming  with  mosquitoes.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
they  were  mad  for  our  blood;  those  we  knocked  off 
and  maimed,  would  crawl  up  with  sprained  wings  and 
twisted  legs  to  sting  as  fiercely  as  ever,  as  long  as  the 
beak  would  work. 

We  thought  the  stinging  pests  of  the  Buffalo  country 
as  bad  as  possible,  but  they  proved  mild  and  scarce 
compared  with  those  we  yet  had  to  meet  on  the  Arctic 
Barrens  of  our  ultimate  goal. 

Each  day  they  got  worse;  soon  it  became  clear  that 
mere  adjectives  could  not  convey  any  idea  of  their 
terrors.  Therefore  I  devised  a  mosquito  gauge.  I 
held  up  a  bare  hand  for  5  seconds  by  the  watch,  then 
counted  the  number  of  borers  on  the  back;  there  were 
5  to  10.    Each  day  added  to  the  number,  and  when 


64  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

we  got  out  to  the  Buffalo  country,  there  were  15  to  25 
on  the  one  side  of  the  hand  and  elsewhere  in  proportion. 
On  the  Nyarling,  in  early  July,  the  number  was  in- 
creased, being  now  20  to  40.  On  Great  Slave  Lake, 
later  that  month,  there  were  50  to  60.  But  when  we 
reached  the  Barren  Grounds,  the  land  of  open  breezy 
plains  and  cold  water  lakes,  the  pests  were  so  bad  that 
the  hand  held  up  for  5  seconds  often  showed  from  100 
to  125  long-billed  mosquitoes  boring  away  into  the 
flesh.  It  was  possible  to  number  them  only  by  killing 
them  and  counting  the  corpses.  What  wonder  that 
all  men  should  avoid  the  open  plains,  that  are  the 
kingdom  of  such  a  scourge. 

Yet  it  must  not  be  thought  that  the  whole  country 
is  similarly  and  evenly  filled.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  they  flock  and  fly  to  the  big  moving  creatures  they 
see  or  smell.  Maybe  we  had  gathered  the  whole  mos- 
quito product  of  many  acres.  This  is  shown  by  the 
facts  that  if  one  rushes  through  thick  bushes  for  a  dis- 
tance, into  a  clear  space,  the  mosquitoes  seem  absent 
at  first.  One  must  wait  a  minute  or  so  to  gather  up 
another  legion.  When  landing  from  a  boat  on  the 
Northern  Lakes  there  are  comparatively  few,  but  even 
in  a  high  wind,  a  walk  to  the  nearest  hilltop  results  in 
one  again  moving  in  a  cloud  of  tormentors.  Does  not 
this  readiness  to  assemble  at  a  bait  suggest  a  possible 
means  of  destroying  them? 

Every  one,  even  the  seasoned  natives,  agree  that  they 
are  a  terror  to  man  au  h  beast ;  but,  thanks  to  our  fly- 
proof  tents,  we  sleep  immune.  During  the  day  I  wear 
my  net  and  gloves,  uncomfortably  hot,  but  a  blessed 


MOSQUITOES  65 

relief  from  the  torment.  It  is  easy  to  get  used  to 
those  coverings;  it  is  impossible  to  get  used  to  the 
mosquitoes. 

For  July  10  I  find  this  note:  "The  Mosquitoes  are 
worse  now  than  ever  before;  even  Jams,  Treble,  and 
the  Indians  are  wearing  face  protectors  of  some  kind. 
The  Major  has  borrowed  Preble's  closed  net,  much  to 
the  hitler's  discomfiture,  as  he  himself  would  be  glad 
to  wear  it." 

This  country  has,  for  6  months,  the  finest  climate 
in  the  world,  but  2\  of  these  are  ruined  by  the  ma- 
lignancy of  the  fly  plague.  Yet  it  is  certain  that 
knowledge  will  confer  on  man  the  power  to  wipe  them 
out. 

No  doubt  the  first  step  in  this  direction  is  a  thorough 
understanding  of  the  creature's  life-history.  This 
understanding  many  able  men  are  working  for.  But 
there1  is  another  line  of  thought  that  should  not  be 
forgotten,  though  it  is  negative — many  animals  are 
immune.  Which  are  they?  Our  first  business  is  to 
list  them  if  we  would  learn  the  why  of  immunity. 

Frogs  are  ;miong  the  happy  ones.  One  day  early  in 
June  I  took  a  wood-frog  in  my  hand.  The  mosquitoes 
swarmed  about.  In  a  few  seconds  30  were  on  my 
hand  digging  away;  10  were  on  my  forefinger,  8  on  my 
thumb;  between  these  was  the  frog,  a  creature  with 
many  resemblances  to  man — red  blood,  a  smooth, 
naked,  soft  skin,  etc. — and  yet  not  a  mosquito  attacked 
it.  Scores  had  bled  my  hand  before  one  alighted  on 
the  frog,  and  it  leaped  off  again  as  though  the  creature 
were  red  hot.    The  experiment  repeated  with  another 


66  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

frog  gave  the  same  result.  Why?  It  can  hardly  be 
because  the  frog  is  cold-blooded,  for  many  birds  also 
seem  to  be  immune,  and  their  blood  is  warmer  than 
man's. 

Next,  I  took  a  live  frog  and  rubbed  it  on  my  hand 
over  an  area  marked  out  with  lead  pencil;  at  first 
the  place  was  wet,  but  in  a  few  seconds  dry  and 
rather  shiny.  I  held  up  my  hand  till  50  mos- 
quitoes had  alighted  on  it  and  begun  to  bore;  of 
these,  4  alighted  on  the  froggy  place,  3  at  once 
tumbled  off  in  haste,  but  one,  No.  32,  did  sting  me 
there.  I  put  my  tongue  to  the  frog's  back;  it  was 
slightly  bitter. 

I  took  a  black-gilled  fungus  from  a  manure  pile 
to-day,  rubbed  a  small  area,  and  held  my  hand  bare 
till  50  mosquitoes  had  settled  and  begun  to  sting;  7  of 
these  alighted  on  the  fungus  juice,  but  moved  off  at 
once,  except  the  last;  it  stung,  but  at  that  time  the 
juice  was  dry. 

Many  other  creatures,  including  some  birds,  enjoy 
immunity,  but  I  note  that  mosquitoes  did  attack  a 
dead  crane ;  also  they  swarmed  onto  a  widgeon  plucked 
while  yet  warm,  and  bored  in  deep;  but  I  did  not  see 
any  filling  with  blood. 

There  is  another  kind  of  immunity  that  is  equally 
important  and  obscure.  In  the  summer  of  1904,  Dr. 
Clinton  L.  Bagg,  of  New  York,  went  to  Newfoundland 
for  a  fishing  trip.  The  Codroy  country  was,  as  usual, 
plagued  with  mosquitoes,  but  as  soon  as  the  party 
crossed  into  the  Garnish  River  Valley,  a  land  of  woods 
and  swamps  like  the  other,  the  mosquitoes  had  dis- 


MOSQUITOES  67 

appeared.  Dr.  Bagg  spent  the  month  of  August  there, 
and  found  no  use  for  nets,  dopes,  or  other  means  of 
fighting  winged  pests;  there  were  none.  What  the 
secret  was  no  one  at  present  knows,  but  it  would  be  a 
priceless  thing  to  find. 

Now,  lest  I  should  do  injustice  to  the  Northland  that 
will  some  day  be  an  empire  peopled  with  white  men,  let 
me  say  that  there  are  three  belts  of  mosquito  country — 
(lie  Barren  Grounds,  where  they  are  worst  and  endure 
for  2£  months;  the  spruce  forest,  where  they  are  bad 
and  continue  for  2  months,  and  the  great  arable  region 
of  wheat,  that  takes  in  Athabaska  and  Saskatchewan, 
where  the  flies  are  a  nuisance  for  6  or  7  weeks,  but  no 
more  so  than  they  were  in  Ontario,  Michigan,  Mani- 
toba, and  formerly  England;  and  where  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  land  will  soon  reduce  them  to  insignificance, 
as  it  has  invariably  done  in  other  similar  regions.  It 
is  quite  remarkable  in  the  north-west  that  such  plagues 
are  most  numerous  in  the  more  remote  regions,  and 
they  disappear  in  proportion  as  the  country  is  opened 
up  and  settled. 

Finally,  it  is  a  relief  to  know  that  these  mosquitoes 
convey  no  disease — even  the  far-spread  malaria  is  un- 
known in  the  region. 

Why  did  I  not  take  a  "dope"  or  "fly  repellent," 
ask  many  of  my  friends. 

In  answer  I  can  only  say  T  have  never  before  been 
where  mosquitoes  were  bad  enough  to  need  one.  I 
had  had  no  experience  with  fly-dope.  I  had  heard 
thai  they  are  not  very  effectual,  and  so  did  not  add 
one  to  the  outfit.    I  can  say  now  it  was  a  mistake  to 


68  THE   ARCTIC   PRAIRIES 

leave  any  means  untried.    Next  time  I  carry  "dope." 
The  following  recipe  is  highly  recommended: 

Pennyroyal,  one  part, 

Oil  of  Tar, 

Spirits  of  Camphor,  "        " 

Sweet  Oil,  or  else  vaseline,  three  parts. 

Their  natural  enemies  are  numerous;  most  small 
birds  prey  on  them;  dragon-flies  also,  and  the  latter 
alone  inspire  fear  in  the  pests.  When  a  dragon-fly 
comes  buzzing  about  one's  head  the  mosquitoes  move 
away  to  the  other  side,  but  it  makes  no  considerable 
difference. 

On  Buffalo  River  I  saw  a  boatman  or  water-spider 
seize  and  devour  a  mosquito  that  fell  within  reach; 
which  is  encouraging,  because,  as  a  rule,  the  smaller 
the  foe,  the  deadlier,  and  the  only  creature  that  really 
affects  the  whole  mosquito  nation  is  apparently  a 
small  reel  parasite  that  became  more  and  more  numer- 
ous as  the  season  wore  on.  It  appeared  in  red  lumps 
on  the  bill  and  various  parts  of  the  stinger's  body,  and 
the  victim  became  very  sluggish.  Specimens  sent  to 
Dr.  L.  0.  Howard,  the  authority  on  mosquitoes,  elic- 
ited the  information  that  it  was  a  fungus,  probably 
new  to  science.  But  evidently  it  is  deadly  to  the  Culex. 
More  power  to  it,  and  the  cause  it  represents;  we  cannot 
pray  too  much  for  its  increase. 

Now  to  sum  up :  after  considering  the  vastness  of  the 
region  affected — three-quarters  of  the  globe — and  the 
number  of  diseases  these  insects  communicate,  one  is 
inclined  to  say  that  it  might  be  a  greater  boon  to 


MOSQUITOES  69 

mankind  to  extirpate  the  mosquito  than  to  stamp  out 
tuberculosis.  The  latter  means  death  to  a  consider- 
able proportion  of  our  race,  the  former  means  hopeless 
suffering  to  all  mankind;  one  takes  off  each  year  its 
toll  of  the  weaklings,  the  other  spares  none,  and  in  the 
far  north  at  least  has  made  a  hell  on  earth  of  the  land 
that  for  six  months  of  each  year  might  be  a  human 
Paradise. 


The  pests  of  the  Peace 


CHAPTER  X 

A  BAD  CASE 

My  unsought  fame  as  a  medicine  man  continued  to 
grow.  One  morning  I  heard  a  white  voice  outside 
asking,  "Is  the  doctor  in?"  Billy  replied:  "Mr.  Seton 
is  inside."    On  going  forth  I  met  a  young  American 

who  thus  introduced  himself:  "My  name  is  Y , 

from  Michigan.  I  was  a  student  at  Ann  Arbor  when 
you  lectured  there  in  1903.  I  don't  suppose  you  re- 
member me;  I  was  one  of  the  reception  committee;  but 
I'm  mighty  glad  to  meet  you  out  here." 

After  cordial  greetings  he  held  up  his  arm  to  explain 
the  call  and  said:  "I'm  in  a  pretty  bad  way." 

"Let's  see." 

He  unwound  the  bandage  and  showed  a  hand  and 
arm  swollen  out  of  all  shape,  twice  the  natural  size, 
and  of  a  singular  dropsical  pallor. 

"Have  you  any  pain?" 

"I  can't  sleep  from  the  torture  of  it." 

"Where  does  it  hurt  now?" 

"In  the  hand." 

"How  did  you  get  it?" 

"It  seemed  to  come  on  after  a  hard  crossing  of  Lake 
Athabaska.    We  had  to  row  all  night." 

I  asked  one  or  two  more  questions,  really  to  hide 
my  puzzlement.     "What  in  the  world  is  it?"  I  said  to 

70 


A  BAD  CASE  71 

myself;  "all  so  fat  and  puffy."  I  cudgelled  my  brain 
for  a  clue.  As  I  examined  the  hand  in  silence  to  play 
for  time  and  conceal  my  ignorance,  he  went  on: 

"What  I'm  afraid  of  is  blood-poisoning.  I  couldn't 
get  out  to  a  doctor  before  a  month,  and  by  that 
time  I'll  be  one-armed  or  dead.  I  know  which  I'd 
prefer." 

Knowing,  at  all  events,  that  nothing  but  evil  could 
come  of  fear,  I  said:  "Now  see  here.  You  can  put 
that  clean  out  of  your  mind.  You  never  saw  blood- 
poisoning  that  colour,  did  you?" 

"That's  so,"  and  he  seemed  intensely  relieved. 

While  I  was  thus  keeping  up  an  air  of  omniscience 
by  saying  nothing,  Major  Jarvis  came  up. 

"Look  at  this,  Jarvis,"  said  I;  "isn't  it  a  bad 
one?" 

"Phew,"  said  the  Major,  "that's  the  worst  felon  I 
ever  saw." 

Like  a  gleam  from  heaven  came  the  word  felon. 
That's  what  it  was,  a  felon  or  whitlow,  and  again  I 
breathed  freely.  Turning  to  the  patient  with  my 
most  cock-sure  professional  air,  I  said: 

"Now  see,  Y.,  you  needn't  worry;  you've  hurt  your 
finger  in  rowing,  and  the  injury  was  deep  and  has  set 
up  a  felon.  It  is  not  yet  headed  up  enough;  as  soon 
as  it  is  I'll  lance  it,  unless  it  bursts  of  itself  (and  in- 
wardly I  prayed  it  might  burst).  Can  you  get  any 
linseed  meal  or  bran?" 

"Afraid  not." 

"Well,  then,  get  some  clean  rags  and  keep  the  plac< 
covered  with  them  dipped  in  water  as  hot  as  you  car 


72  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

stand  it,  and  we'll  head  it  up  in  twenty-four  hours; 
then  in  three  days  I'll  have  you  in  good  shape  to 
travel."  The  last  sentence,  delivered  with  the  calm 
certainty  of  a  man  who  knows  all  about  it  and  never 
made  a  mistake,  did  so  much  good  to  the  patient  that 
I  caught  a  reflex  of  it  myself. 

He  gave  me  his  good  hand  and  said  with  emotion: 
"You  don't  know  how  much  good  you  have  done  me. 
I  don't  mind  being  killed,  but  I  don't  want  to  go 
through  life  a  cripple." 

"You  say  you  haven't  slept?"  I  asked. 

"Not  for  three  nights;  I've  suffered  too  much." 

"Then  take  these  pills.  Go  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock  and 
take  a  pill;  if  this  does  not  put  you  to  sleep,  take 
another  at  10.30.  If  you  are  still  awake  at  11,  take 
the  third;  then  you  will  certainly  sleep." 

He  went  off  almost  cheerfully. 

Next  morning  he  was  back,  looking  brighter.  "Well, 
I  said,  "you  slept  last  night,  all  right." 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  didn't;  there's  opium  in  those 
pills,  isn't  there?" 

"Yes." 

"I  thought  so.  Here  they  are.  I  made  up  my 
mind  I'd  see  this  out  in  my  sober  senses,  without 
any  drugs." 

"Good  for  you,"  I  exclaimed  in  admiration.  "They 
talk  about  Indian  fortitude.  If  I  had  given  one  of 
those  Indians  some  sleeping  pills,  he'd  have  taken  them 
all  and  asked  for  more.  But  }rou  are  the  real  American 
stuff,  the  pluck  that  can't  be  licked,  and  I'll  soon  have 
you  sound  as  a  dollar." 


A  BAD  CASE  7:J 

Then  he  showed  his  immense  bladder-like  hand. 
"I'll  have  to  make  some  preparation,  and  will  operate 
in  your  shanty  at  1  o'clock/'  I  said,  thinking  how  very 
professional  it  sounded. 

The  preparation  consisted  of  whetting  my  penknife 
and,  much  more  important,  screwing  up  my  nerves. 
And  now  I  remembered  my  friend's  brandy,  pul  the 
flask  in  my  pocket,  and  went  to  the  execution. 

Be  was  ready.  "Here,"  I  said;  "take  a  good  pull 
at  this  brandy." 

"I  will  not,"  was  (lie  reply.  "I'm  man  enough  to 
go  through  on  my  mettle." 

'"Oh!  confound  your  mettle,"  I  thought,  for  I  wanted 
an  excuse  to  take  some  myself,  but  could  not  for 
shame  under  the  circumstances. 

"Are  you  ready?" 

He  laid  his  pudding-y  hand  on  the  table. 

"You  better  have  your  Indian  friend  hold  that 
hand." 

"I'll  never  budge,"  lie  replied,  with  set  teeth,  and 
motioned  the  Indian  away.  And  I  knew  he  would  not 
flinch.  He  will  never  know  (till  he  reads  this,  perhaps) 
what  an  effort  it  cost  me.  I  knew  only  I  musl  cut 
deep  enough  to  reach  the  pus,  not  so  deep  as  to  touch 
the  artery,  and  not  across  the  tendons,  and  must  do  it 
firmly,  at  one  clean  stroke.     I  did. 

It  was  a  horrid  success.  He  never  quivered,  but  said: 
"Is  that  all?  That's  a  pin-prick  to  what  ['ve  been 
through  every  minute  for  the  last  week." 

I  felt  faint,  went  out  behind  the  cabin,  and  shall  I 
confess  it? — took  a  long  swig  of  brandy.    But  I  wat 


74  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

good  as  my  promise :  in  three  days  he  was  well  enough 
to  travel,  and  soon  as  strong  as  ever. 

I  wonder  if  real  doctors  ever  conceal,  under  an  air 
of  professional  calm,  just  such  doubts  and  fears  as 
worried  me. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  SECOND  BUFFALO  HUNT 

Though  so  trifling,  the  success  of  our  first  Buffalo  hunt 
gave  us  quite  a  social  lift.  The  chiefs  were  equally 
surprised  with  the  whites,  and  when  we  prepared  for 
a  second  expedition,  Kiya  sent  word  that  though  he 
could  not  act  as  guide,  I  should  ride  his  own  trained 
hunter,  a  horse  that  could  run  a  trail  like  a  hound,  and 
was  without  guile. 

I  am  always  suspicious  of  a  horse  (or  man)  without 
guile.  I  wondered  what  was  the  particular  weakness 
of  this  exceptionally  trained,  noble,  and  guileless 
creature.  I  have  only  one  prejudice  in  horse-flesh — I 
do  not  like  a  white  one.  So,  of  course,  when  the  hunter 
arrived  he  was  white  as  marble,  from  mane  to  tail  and 
hoofs ;  his  very  eyes  were  of  a  cheap  china  colour,  sug- 
gestive of  cataractine  blindness.  The  only  relief  was  a 
morbid  tinge  of  faded  shrimp  pink  in  his  nostrils  and 
ears.  But  he  proved  better  than  he  looked.  He  cer- 
tainly did  run  tracks  by  nose  like  a  hound,  provided  I 
let  him  choose  the  track.  He  was  a  lively  walker  and 
easy  trotter,  and  would  stay  where  the  bridle  was 
dropped.  So  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Kiya  was 
not  playing  a  joke  on  me,  but  really  had  lent  me  his 
best  hunter,  whose  sepulchral  whiteness  I  could  see 
would  be  of  great  advantage  in  snow  time  when  chiefly 
one  is  supposed  to  hunt. 

75 


7G 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Cranberry 


Not  only  Kiya,  but  Pierre  Squirrel,  the  head  chief, 
seemed  to  harbour  a  more  kindly  spirit.  He  now 
suddenly  acquired  a  smattering  of  English  and  a  fair 

knowledge  of  French.  He 
jQ  even  agreed  to  lead  us 
through  his  own  hunting- 
grounds  to  the  big  Buffalo- 
range,  stipulating  that  we 
be  back  by  July  1,  as  that 
was  Treaty  Day,  when  all 
the  tribe  assembled  to  re- 
ceive their  treaty  money,  and  his  presence  as  head 
chief  was  absolutely  necessary. 

We  were  advised  to  start  from  Fort  Smith,  as  the 
trail  thence  was  through  a  dryer  country;  so  on  the 
morning  of  June  24,  at  6.50,  we  left  the  Fort  on  our 
second  Buffalo  hunt. 

Major  A.  M.  Jarvis,  Mr.  E.  A.  Preble,  Corporal  Selig, 
Chief  Pierre  Squirrel,  and  my- 
self,  all   mounted,   plus   two 
pack-horses,   prepared  for   a 
week's  campaign. 

Riding  ahead  in  his  yellow 
caftan  and  black  burnoose  was 
Pierre  Squirrel  on  his  spirited 

charger,  looking  most  picturesque.  But  remembering 
that  his  yellow  caftan  was  a  mosquito  net,  his  black 
burnoose  a  Hudson's  Bay  coat,  and  his  charger  an 
ornery  Indian  Cayuse,  robbed  the  picture  of  most  of 
its  poetry. 
We  marched  westerly  7  miles  through  fine,  dry, 


Uva  ursi 


The  Athabaska   Rose  or  Needle  Bloom 


Pierre  Squirrel,  Chief  of  the  Chipewyans 


THE  SECOND  BUFFALO    HUNT 


t  i 


jack-pine  wood,  then  3  miles  through  mixed  poplar, 
pine,  and  spruce,  and  came  to  tin-  Slave  River  opposite 
Point  Gravois.  Thence  we  went  a  mile  or  bo  into  sim- 
ilar woods,  and  after  another  stretch  of  muskegs.    We 

camped  for  lunch  at  11.45,  having  covered  VI  miles. 


Pyrola 

On  Salt  Mountain 

At  two  we  set  out,  and  reached  Salt  River  at  three, 
but  did  not  cross  there.  It  is  a  magnificent  stream, 
200  feet  wide,  with  hard  banks  and  fine  timber  on  each 
side;  but  its  waters  are  brackish. 

We  travelled  north-westerly,  or  northerly,  along  the 
east  banks  for  an  hour,  but  at  length  away  from  it  on 
a  wide  prairie1,  a  mile  or  more  across  here  bul  evidently 
extending  much  farther  behind  interruptions  of  willow- 
clumps.     Probably  these  prairies  join  with  those  we 


78 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Uva-ursi 


saw  on  the  Beaulieu  trip.  They  are  wet  now,  though 
a  horse  can  go  anywhere,  and  the  grass  is  good.  We 
camped  about  six  on  a  dry  place  back  from  the  river. 
At  night  I  was  much  interested  to  hear  at  intervals  the 

familiar   Kick-kick- 

M 


kick-kick  of  the  Yel- 
low Rail   in  the  ad- 
joining swamps.  This 
must  be  its  northmost 
range;    we  did  not 
actually  see  it. 
Here  I  caught  a  garter-snake.    Preble  says  it  is  the 
same  form  as  that  at  Edmonton.     Our  guide  was  as 
much  surprised  to  see  me  take  it  in  my  hands,  as  he 
was  to  see  me  let  it  go  unharmed. 

Next  morning,  after  a  short  hour's  travel,  we  came 
again  to  Salt  River  and  proceeded  to  cross.  Evi- 
dently Squirrel  had  selected  the  wrong  place,  for  the 
sticky  mud  seemed  bottomless,  and  we  came  near  los- 
ing two  of  the  horses. 

After  two  hours  we  all  got  across  and  went  on,  but 
most  of   the  horses  had 

shown  up  poorly,  as  spirit-  /^0*$J^M  j* 

less  creatures,  not  yet  re-      st^  "^^^dL 

covered  from  the  effects  Linnsea 

of  a  hard  winter. 

Our  road  now  lay  over  the  high  upland  of  the  Salt 
Mountain,  among  its  dry  and  beautiful  woods.  The 
trip  would  have  been  glorious  but  for  the  awful  things 
that  I  am  not  allowed  to  mention  outside  of  Chap- 
ter IX. 


Map  of  Buffalo  herds  and  trails 

Drkwn  by  Chief  Pierre  Squirrel,  June  2»,  1907 


80 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Pierre  proved  a  pleasant  and  intelligent  companion; 
he  did  his  best,  but  more  than  once  shook  his  head  and 
said:  "Chevaux  no  good." 

We  covered  15  miles  before 
night,  and  all  day  we  got  glimpses 
of  some  animal  on  our  track,  300 
yards  behind  in  the  woods.  It 
might  easily  have  been  a  Wolf,  but 
at  night  he  sneaked  into  camp — 
a  forlorn  and  starving  Indian  dog. 
Next  day  we  reached  the  long- 
looked-for  Little  Buffalo  River. 
Several  times  of  late  Pierre  had 
commented  on  the  slowness  of  our 
horses  and  enlarged  on  the  awful 
muskegs  that  covered  the  coun- 
try west  of  the  Little  Buffalo. 
Now  he  spoke  out  frankly  and 
said  we  had  been  2J  days  coming 
40  miles  when  the  road  was  good ; 
we  were  now  coming  to  very  bad 
roads  and  had  to  go  as  far  again. 
These  horses  could  not  do  it,  and  get 
him  back  to  Fort  Smith  for  July  1 
—and  back  at  any  price  he  must  be. 
He  was  willing  to  take  the  whole  outfit  half  a  day 
farther  westward,  or,  if  we  preferred  it,  he  would  go 
afoot  or  on  horseback  with  the  pick  of  the  men  and 
horses  for  a  hasty  dash  forward ;  but  to  take  the  whole 
outfit  on  to  the  Buffalo  country  and  get  back  on  time 
was  not  possible. 


Unifolium 


tiii:  second  buffalo  hunt 


81 


This  was  a  bad  shake.  We  held  a  council  of  war, 
and  the  things  that  were  said  of  that  Indian  should 
have  riled  him  if  he  understood.  He  preserved  his 
calm  demeanour;  probably  this  was  one  of  the  con- 
venient times  when  all  his  English  forsook  him.  We 
were  simply  raging:  to  be  half-way  to  our  goal,  with 
abundance  of  provisions,  fine  weather,  good  health 
and  everything  promis- 
ing well,  and  then  to  be 
balked  because  our 
guide  wanted  to  go  back. 

I  felt  as  savage  as  the 
others,  but  on  calmer  re- 
flection pointed  out  that 
Pierre  told  us  before 
starting  that  he  must 
be  back  for  Treaty  Day, 
and  even  now  he  was 
ready  to  do  his  best. 

Then  in  a  calm  of  the  storm  (which  he  continued  to 
ignore)  Pierre  turned  to  me  and  said:  "Why  don't  you 
go  back  and  try  the  canoe  route?  You  can  go  down  the 
Great  River  to  Grand  Detour,  then  portage  8  miles 
over  to  the  Buffalo,  go  down  this  to  the  Nyarling,  then 
up  the  Nyarling  into  the  heart  of  the  Buffalo  country; 
2J  days  will  do  it,  and  it  will  be  eas}^  for  there  is  plenty 
of  water  and  no  rapids,"  and  he  drew  a  fairly  exact 
map  which  showed  that  he  knew  the  country  thor- 
oughly. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  going  half  a  day 
farther. 


Junipcrus  nana 


82  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

To  break  up  our  party  did  not  fit  in  at  all  with  our 
plans,  so,  after  another  brief  stormy  debate  in  which 
the  guide  took  no  part,  we  turned  without  crossing  the 
Little  Buffalo,  and  silently,  savagely,  began  the  home- 
ward journey;  as  also  did  the  little  Indian  dog. 

Next  morning  we  crossed  the  Salt  River  at  a  lower 
place  where  was  a  fine,  hard  bottom.  That  afternoon 
we  travelled  for  6  miles  through  a  beautiful  and  level 
country,  covered  with  a  forest  of  large  poplars,  not 
very  thick;  it  will  some  day  be  an  ideal  cattle-range, 
for  it  had  rank  grass  everywhere,  and  was  varied  by 
occasional  belts  of  jack-pine.  In  one  of  these  Preble 
found  a  nest  with  six  eggs  that  proved  to  be  those  of 
the  Bohemian  Chatterer.  These  he  secured,  with  pho- 
tograph of  the  nest  and  old  bird.  It  was  the  best  find 
of  the  journey. 

The  eggs  proved  of  different  incubation — at  least  a 
week's  difference — showing  that  the  cool  nights  neces- 
sitated immediate  setting. 

We  camped  at  Salt  River  mouth,  and  next  afternoon 
were  back  at  Fort  Smith,  having  been  out  five  days  and 
seen  nothing,  though  there  were  tracks  of  Moose  and 
Bear  in  abundance. 

Here  our  guide  said  good-bye  to  us,  and  so  did  the 
Indian  dog. 


CHAPTER  XII 

BEZKYA   AND   THE   PILLS 

During  this  journey  I  had  successfully  treated  two  of 
the  men  for  slight  ailments,  and  Squirrel  had  made 
mental  note  of  the  fact.  A  result  of  it  was  that  in  the 
morning  an  old,  old,  black-looking  Indian  came  hob- 
bling on  a  stick  to  my  tent  and,  in  husky  Chipewyan, 
roughly  translated  by  Billy,  told  me  that  he  had  pains 
in  his  head  and  his  shoulder  and  his  body,  and  his 
arms  and  his  legs  and  his  feet,  and  he  couldn't  hunt, 
couldn't  fish,  couldn't  walk,  couldn't  eat,  couldn't  lie, 
couldn't  sleep,  and  he  wanted  me  to  tackle  the  case.  I 
hadn't  the  least  idea  of  what  ailed  the  old  chap,  but 
conveyed  no  hint  of  my  darkness.  I  put  on  my  very 
medical  look  and  said:  "Exactly  so.  Now  you  take 
these  pills  and  you  will  find  a  wonderful  difference  in 
the  morning."  I  had  some  rather  fierce  rhubarb  pills; 
one  was  a  dose  but,  recognising  the  necessity  for  eclat, 
I  gave  him  two. 

He  gladly  gulped  them  down  in  water.  The  Indian 
takes  kindly  to  pills,  it's  so  easy  to  swallow  them,  so 
obviously  productive  of  results,  and  otherwise  satis- 
factory.    Then  the  old  man  hobbled  off  to  his  lodge. 

A  few  hours  later  he  was  back  again,  looking  older 
and  shakier  than  ever,  his  wet  red  eyes  looking  like 
plague  spots  in  his  ashy  brown  visage  or  like  volcanic 

83 


84  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

eruptions  in  a  desert  of  dead  lava,  and  in  husky,  click- 
ing accents  he  told  Billy  to  tell  the  Okimow  that  the 
pills  were  no  good — not  strong  enough  for  him. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "he  shall  surely  have  results  this 
time."  I  gave  him  three  big  ones  in  a  cup  of  hot  tea. 
All  the  Indians  love  tea,  and  it  seems  to  help  them. 
Under  its  cheering  power  the  old  man's  tongue  was 
loosened.  He  talked  more  clearly,  and  Billy,  whose 
knowledge  of  Chipewyan  is  fragmentary  at  best,  sud- 
denly said: 

"I'm  afraid  I  made  a  mistake.  Bezkya  says  the  pills 
are  too  strong.  Can't  you  give  him  something  to  stop 
them?" 

"Goodness,"  I  thought;  "here's  a  predicament,"  but 
I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  I  remembered  a  western 
adage,  "When  you  don't  know  a  thing  to  do,  don't  do 
a  thing."  I  only  said:  "Tell  Bezkya  to  go  home,  go  to 
bed,  and  stay  there  till  to-morrow,  then  come  here 
again." 

Away  went  the  Indian  to  his  lodge.  I  felt  rather 
uneasy  that  day  and  night,  and  the  next  morning 
looked  with  some  eagerness  for  the  return  of  Bezkya. 
But  he  did  not  come  and  I  began  to  grow  unhappy.  I 
wanted  some  evidence  that  I  had  not  done  him  an  in- 
jury. I  wished  to  see  him,  but  professional  etiquette 
forbade  me  betraying  myself  by  calling  on  him.  Noon 
came  and  no  Bezkya;  late  afternoon,  and  then  I  sallied 
forth,  not  to  seek  him,  but  to  pass  near  his  lodge,  as 
though  I  were  going  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  store.  And 
there,  to  my  horror,  about  the  lodge  I  saw  a  group  of 
squaws,  with  shawls  over  their  heads,  whispering  to- 


BEZKYA  AND  THE   PILLS  85 

gether.    As  I  went   by,  all  turned  as  one  of  them 
pointed  at  me,  and  again  they  whispered. 

"Oh,  heavens!"  I  thought;  "I've  killed  the  old 
in; m."  But  still  I  would  not  go  in.  That  night  I 
did  not  sleep  for  worrying  about  it.  Next  morning  I 
was  on  the  point  of  sending  Billy  to  learn  the  state  of 
affairs,  when  who  should  come  staggering  up  but  old 
Bezkya.  He  was  on  two  crutches  now,  his  com- 
plexion was  a  dirty  gray,  and  his  feeble  knees  were 
shaking,  but  he  told  Billy — yes,  unmistakably  this 
time — to  tell  the  Okimow  that  that  was  great  medi- 
cine I  had  given  him,  and  he  wanted  a  dose  just  like  it 
for  his  wife. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

FORT  SMITH  AND  THE  SOCIAL  QUEEN 

Several  times  during  our  river  journey  I  heard  refer- 
ence to  an  extraordinary  woman  in  the  lower  country, 
one  who  gave  herself  great  airs,  put  on  style,  who  was 
so  stuck  up,  indeed,  that  she  had  "two  pots,  one  for  tea, 
one  for  coffee."  Such  incredible  pomposity  and  arro- 
gance naturally  invited  sarcastic  comment  from  all  the 
world,  and  I  was  told  I  should  doubtless  see  this  re- 
markable person  at  Fort  Smith. 

After  the  return  from  Buffalo  hunt  No.  2,  and  pend- 
ing arrangements  for  hunt  No.  3,  I  saw  more  of  Fort 
Smith  than  I  wished  for,  but  endeavoured  to  turn 
the  time  to  account  by  copying  out  interesting  chap- 
ters from  the  rough  semi-illegible,  perishable  manu- 
script accounts  of  northern  life  called  " old-timers." 
The  results  of  this  library  research  work  appear  under 
the  chapter  heads  to  which  they  belong. 

At  each  of  these  northern  posts  there  were  interest- 
ing experiences  in  store  for  me,  as  one  who  had  read 
all  the  books  of  northern  travel  and  dreamed  for  half 
a  lifetime  of  the  north;  and  that  was — almost  daily 
meeting  with  famous  men.  I  suppose  it  would  be 
similar  if  one  of  these  men  were  to  go  to  London  or 
Washington  and  have  some  one  tell  him:  that  gentle 
old  man  there  is  Lord  Roberts,  or  that  meek,  shy,  re- 

86 


FORT  SMITH  AND  THE  SOCIAL  QUEEN    87 

tiring  person  is  Speaker  Cannon;  this  on  the  first  bench 
is  Lloyd-George,  or  that  with  the  piercing  eyes  is 
Aldrich,  the  uncrowned  King  of  America.  So  it  was 
a  frequent  and  delightful  experience  to  meet  with 
men  whose  names  have  figured  in  books  of  travel  for 
a  generation.  This  was  Roderick  MacFarlane,  who 
founded  Fort  Anderson,  discovered  the  MacFarlane 
Rabbit,  etc.;  here  was  John  Schott,  who  guided  Cas- 
par Whitney;  that  was  Hanbury's  head  man;  here 
was  Murdo  McKay,  who  travelled  with  Warburton 
Pike  in  the  Barrens  and  starved  with  him  on  Peace 
River;  and  so  with  many  more. 

Very  few  of  these  men  had  any  idea  of  the  interest 
attaching  to  their  observations.  Their  notion  of  val- 
ues centres  chiefly  on  things  remote  from  their  daily 
life.  It  was  very  surprising  to  see  how  completely 
one  may  be  outside  of  the  country  he  lives  in.  Thus 
I  once  met  a  man  who  had  lived  sixteen  years  in  north- 
ern Ontario,  had  had  his  chickens  stolen  every  year  by 
Foxes,  and  never  in  his  life  had  seen  a  Fox.  I  know 
many  men  who  live  in  Wolf  country,  and  hear  them  at 
least  every  week,  but  have  never  seen  one  in  twenty 
years'  experience.  Quite  recently  I  saw  a  score  of  folk 
who  had  lived  in  the  porcupiniest  part  of  the  Adiron- 
dacks  for  many  summers  and  yet  never  saw  a  Porcu- 
pine, and  did  not  know  what  it  was  when  I  brought  one 
into  their  camp.  So  it  was  not  surprising  to  me  to  find 
that  although  living  in  a  country  thai  swarmed  with 
Moose,  in  a  village  which  consumes  at  least  a  hundred 
Moose  per  annum,  there  were  at  Fort  Smith  several  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  men  that  had  lived  on  Moose  meat 


88  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

all  their  lives  and  yet  had  never  seen  a  live  Moose.  It 
sounds  like  a  New  Yorker  saying  he  had  never  seen  a 
stray  cat.  But  I  was  simply  dumfounded  by  a  final 
development  in  the  same  line. 

Quite  the  most  abundant  carpet  in  the  forest  here 
is  the  uva-ursi  or  bear-berry.  Its  beautiful  evergreen 
leaves  and  bright  red  berries  cover  a  quarter  of  the 
ground  in  dry  woods  and  are  found  in  great  acre  beds. 
It  furnishes  a  staple  of  food  to  all  wild  things,  birds 
and  beasts,  including  Foxes,  Martens,  and  Coyotes;  it 
is  one  of  the  most  abundant  of  the  forest  products,  and 
not  one  hundred  yards  from  the  fort  are  solid  patches 
as  big  as  farms,  and  yet  when  I  brought  in  a  spray  to 
sketch  it  one  day  several  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  officers 
said:  "Where  in  the  world  did  you  get  that?  It  must 
be  very  rare,  for  I  never  yet  saw  it  in  this  country." 
A  similar  remark  was  made  about  a  phcebe-bird. 
"It  was  never  before  seen  in  the  country";  and  yet 
there  is  a  pair  nesting  every  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
Athabaska  Landing  to  Great  Slave  Lake. 

Fort  Smith,  being  the  place  of  my  longest  stay,  was 
the  scene  of  my  largest  medical  practice. 

One  of  my  distinguished  patients  here  was  Jacob 
McKay,  a  half-breed  born  on  Red  River  in  1840.  He 
left  there  in  1859  to  live  3  years  at  Rat  Portage. 
Then  he  went  to  Norway  House,  and  after  3  years 
moved  to  Athabaska  in  1865.  In  1887  he  headed  a 
special  government  expedition  into  the  Barren  Crounds 
to  get  some  baby  Musk-ox  skins.  He  left  Fort  Rae, 
April  25,  1887,  and,  travelling  due  north  with  Dogrib 
Indians  some  65  miles,  found  Musk-ox  on  May  10,  and 


Indian  cabin,  Fort  Smith 


^afftf  JA 

W***?* 

ww*m 

Starving  squaws  looking  for  the  return  of  the  fisher  boats 


FORT  SMITH  AND  THE  SOCIAL  QUEEN    89 

later  saw  many  hundreds.  They  killed  16  ealves  for 
their  pelts,  but  no  old  ones.  McKay  had  to  use  all 
his  influence  to  keep  the  [ndians  from  slaughtering 

wholesale;  indeed;  it  was  to  restrain  them  that  he  was 
sent. 

He  now  lives  at  Fort  Resolution. 

One  morning  the  chief  came  and  said  he  wanted  me 
to  doctor  a  sick  woman  in  his  lodge*.  I  thought  sick 
women  a  good  place  for  an  amateur  to  draw  the  line, 
but  Squirrel  did  not.  "II  faut  venir;  elle  est  bien 
malade." 

At  length  I  took  my  pill-kit  and  followed  him. 
Around  his  lodge  were  a  score  of  the  huge  sled  dogs, 
valuable  animals  in  winter,  but  useless,  sullen,  starv- 
ing, noisy  nuisances  all  summer.  If  you  kick  them 
out  of  your  way,  they  respect  you;  if  you  pity  them, 
they  bite  you.     They  respected  us. 

We  entered  the  lodge,  and  there  sitting  by  the  fire 
were  two  squaws  making  moccasins.  One  was  old 
and  ugly  as  sin;  the  second,  young  and  pretty  as  a 
brown  fawn.  I  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  doubt, 
and  said : 

"Laquellc  est  la  malade?" 

Then  the  pretty  one  replied  in  perfect  English: 
"You  needn't  talk  French  here;  I  speak  English," 
which  she  certainly  did.  French  is  mostly  used,  but 
the  few  that  speak  English  are  very  proud  of  it  and 
are  careful  to  let  you  know. 

"Are  you  ill?"  I  asked. 

"The  chief  thinks  I  am,"  was  the  somewhat  impa- 
tient reply,  and  she  broke  down  in  a  coughing  fit. 


90  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

"How  long  have  you  had  that?"  I  said  gravely. 
"What?" 

I  tapped  my  chest  for  reply. 
"Oh!  since  last  spring." 

"And  you  had  it  the  spring  before,  too,  didn't  you?" 
"Why,  yes!  (a  pause).    But  that  isn't  what  bothers 
me." 

"Isn't  your  husband  kind  to  you?" 

"  Yes — sometimes." 

"Is  this  your  husband?" 

"No!    F B is;  I  am  K ." 


Again  she  was  interrupted  by  coughing. 

"Would  you  like  something  to  ease  that  cough?"  I 
asked. 

"No!    It  isn't  the  body  that's  sick;  it's  the  heart." 

"Do  you  wish  to  tell  me  about  it?" 

"I  lost  my  babies." 

"When?" 

"Two  years  ago.  I  had  two  little  ones,  and  both 
died  in  one  month.  I  am  left  much  alone;  my  hus- 
band is  away  on  the  transport;  our  lodge  is  nearby. 
The  chief  has  all  these  dogs ;  they  bark  at  every  little 
thing  and  disturb  me,  so  I  lie  awake  all  night  and  think 
about  my  babies.    But  that  isn't  the  hardest  thing." 

"What  is  it?" 

She  hesitated,  then  burst  out:  "The  tongues  of  the 
women.  You  don't  know  what  a  hell  of  a  place  this 
is  to  live  in.  The  women  here  don't  mind  their  work; 
they  sit  all  day  watching  for  a  chance  to  lie  about  their 
neighbours.  If  I  am  seen  talking  to  you  now,  a  story 
will  be  made  of  it.    If  I  walk  to  the  store  for  a  pound 


1  ( )RT  SMITH  AND  THE  SOCIAL  QUEEN    91 

of  tea,  a  story  is  made  of  that.  If  I  turn  my  head, 
another  story;  and  everything  is  carried  to  my  hus- 
band to  make  mischief.  It  is  nothing  but  lies,  lies, 
lies,  all  day,  all  night,  all  year.  Women  don't  do  that 
way  in  your  country,  do  they?" 

"No,"  I  replied  emphatically.  "If  any  woman  in 
my  country  were  to  tell  a  lie  to  make  another  woman 
unhappy,  she  would  be  thought  very,  very  wicked." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  said.  "I  wish  I  could  go  to 
your  country  and  be  at  rest."  She  turned  to  her  work 
and  began  talking  to  the  others  in  Chipewyan. 

Now  another  woman  entered.  She  was  dressed  in 
semi-white  style,  and  looked,  not  on  the  ground,  as 
does  an  Indian  woman,  on  seeing  a  strange  man,  but 
straight  at  me. 

"Bon  jour,  madame,"  I  said. 

"I  speak  Ingliss,"  she  replied  with  emphasis. 

"Indeed!    And  what  is  your  name?" 

"I  am  Madame  X ." 

And  now  I  knew  I  was  in  the  presence  of  the  stuck- 
up  social  queen. 

After  some  conversation  she  said:  "I  have  some 
things  at  home  you  like  to  see." 

"Where  is  your  lodge?"  I  asked. 

"Lodge,"  she  replied  indignantly;  "I  have  no  lodge. 
I  know  ze  Indian  way.  I  know  ze  half-breed  way.  I 
know  ze  white  man's  way.  I  go  ze  white  man's  way. 
I  live  in  a  house — and  my  door  is  painted  blue." 

I  went  to  her  house,  a  10  by  12  log  cabin;  but  the 
door  certainly  was  painted  blue,  a  gorgeous  sky  blue, 
the  only  touch  of  paint  in  sight.     Inside  was  all  one 


92 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


room,  with  a  mud  fireplace  at  one  end  and  some  piles 
of  rags  in  the  corners  for  beds,  a  table,  a  chair,  and 
some  pots.  On  the  walls  snow-shoes,  fishing-lines, 
dried  fish  in  smellable  bunches,  a  portrait  of  the  Okapi 
from  Outing,  and  a  musical  clock  that  played  with 

painful  persistence 
the  first  three  bars 
of  "God  Save  the 
King."  Everywhere 
else  were  rags,  mud, 
and  dirt. 

"You  see,  I  am 
joost  like  a  white 
woman,"  said  the 
swarthy  queen.  "I 
wear  boots  (she  drew 
her  bare  brown  feet 
and  legs  under  her 
skirt)  and  corsets. 
Zey  are  la,"  and  she 
pointed  to  the  wall,  where,  in  very  truth,  tied  up  with 
a  bundle  of  dried  fish,  were  the  articles  in  question. 
Not  simply  boots  and  corsets,  but  high-heeled  Louis 
Quinze  slippers  and  French  corsets.  I  learned  after- 
ward how  they  were  worn.  When  she  went  shop- 
ping to  the  H.  B.  Co.  store  she  had  to  cross  the 
"parade"  ground,  the  great  open  space;  she  crowded 
her  brown  broad  feet  into  the  slippers,  then  taking  a 
final  good  long  breath  she  strapped  on  the  fearfully 
tight  corsets  outside  of  all.  Now  she  hobbled  painfully 
across  the  open,  proudly  conscious  that  the  eyes  of 


Half-breed 's  kitchen,  Fort  Smith 


FORT  SMITH  AND  THE  SOCIAL  QUEEN   93 

the  world  were  upon  her.  Once  in  the  store  she  would 
unhook  the  corsets  and  breathe  comfortably  till  the 
agonized  triumphant  return  parade  was  In  order. 

This,  however,  is  aside;  we  are  still  in  the  home  of 
the  queen.  She  continued  to  adduce  new  evidences. 
"I  am  just  like  a  white  woman.  I  call  my  daughter 
darrr-leeng."  Then  turning  to  a  fat,  black-looking 
squaw  by  the  fire,  she  said:  "Darrr-leeng,  go  fetch  a 
pail  of  vaw-taire." 

But  darling,  if  familiar  with  that  form  of  address, 
must  have  been  slumbering,  for  she  never  turned  or 
moved  a  hair's-breadth  or  gave  a  symptom  of  intelli- 
gence. 

Now,  at  length  it  transpired  that  the  social  leader 
wished  to  see  me  professionally. 

"It  is  zc  nairves,"  she  explained.  "Zere  is  too 
much  going  on  in  this  village.  I  am  fatigued,  very 
tired.  I  wish  I  could  go  away  to  some  quiet  place  for 
a  long  rest." 

It  was  difficult  to  think  of  a  place,  short  of  the  silent 
tomb,  that  would  be  obviously  quieter  than  Fort  Smith. 
So  I  looked  wise,  worked  on  her  faith  with  a  pill,  as- 
sured her  that  she  would  soon  feel  much  better,  and 
closed  the  blue  door  behind  me. 

With  Chief  Squirrel,  who  had  been  close  by  in  most 
of  this,  I  now  walked  back  to  my  tent.  He  told  me  of 
many  sick  folk  and  sad  lodges  that  needed  me. 

It  seems  that  very  few  of  these  people  are  well.  In 
spite  of  their  healthy  forest  lives  they  are  far  less 
sound  than  an  average  white  community.  They 
have  their  own  troubles,  with  the  white  man's  maladies 


94 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


thrown  in.  I  saw  numberless  other  cases  of  dread- 
ful, hopeless,  devastating  diseases,  mostly  of  the  white 
man's  importation.  It  is  heart-rending  to  see  so  much 
human  misery  and  be  able  to  do  nothing  at  all  for  it, 
not  even  bring  a  gleam  of  hope.  It  made  me  feel  like 
a  murderer  to  tell  one  after  another,  who  came  to  me 
covered  with  cankerous  bone-eating  sores,  "I  can  do 
nothing";  and  I  was  deeply  touched  by  the  simple 
statement  of  the  Chief  Pierre  Squirrel,  after  a  round  of 
visits:  "You  see  how  unhappy  we  are,  how  miserable 
and  sick.  When  I  made  this  treaty  with  your  govern- 
ment, I  stipulated  that  we  should  have  here  a  police- 
man and  a  doctor;  instead  of  that  you  have  sent  noth- 
ing but  missionaries." 


Anemone  patens,  Slave  River, 
40  miles  above  Fort  Smith,  June  7,  1907 

While  sketching  this  a  humuiing-bird  moth  visited  the  bloom 


CHAPTER   XIV 
RABBITS  AND  LYNXES  IN  THE  NORTH-WEST 

There  are  no  Rabbits  in  the  north-west.  This  state- 
ment, far  from  final,  is  practically  true  to-day,  but  I 
saw  plenty  of  Lynxes,  and  one  cannot  write  of  ducks 
without  mentioning  water. 

All  wild  animals  fluctuate  greatly  in  their  population, 
none  more  so  than  the  Snowshoe  or  white-rabbit  of 
the  north-west.  This  is  Rabbit  history  as  far  back  as 
known:  They  are  spread  over  some  great  area;  con- 
ditions are  favourable;  some  unknown  influence  en- 
dows the  females  with  unusual  fecundity;  they  bear 
not  one,  but  two  or  three  broods  in  a  season,  and  these; 
number  not  2  or  3,  but  8  or  10  each  brood.  The  species 
increases  far  beyond  the  powers  of  predaceous  birds  or 
beasts  to  check,  and  the  Rabbits  after  7  or  8  years 
of  this  are  multiplied  into  untold  millions.  On  such 
occasions  every  little  thicket  has  a  Rabbit  in  it;  they 
jump  out  at  every  8  or  10  feet;  they  number  not  less 
than  100  to  the  acre  on  desirable  ground,  which  means 
over  6,000  to  the  square  mile,  and  a  region  as  large 
as  Alberta  would  contain  not  less  than  100,000,000 
fat  white  bunnies.  At  this  time  one  man  can  readily 
kill  100  or  200  Rabbits  in  a  day,  and  even-  bird  and 
beast  of  prey  is  slaughtering  Rabbits  without  restraint. 
Still  they  increase.    Finally,  they  are  so  extraordina- 

95 


96  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

rily  superabundant  that  they  threaten  their  own  food 
supply  as  well  as  poison  all  the  ground.  A  new  influ- 
ence appears  on  the  scene;  it  is  commonly  called  the 
plague,  though  it  is  not  one  disease  but  many  run 
epidemic  riot,  and,  in  a  few  weeks  usually,  the  Rabbits 
are  wiped  out. 

This  is  an  outline  of  the  established  routine  in  Rab- 
bit vital  statistics.  It,  of  course,  varies  greatly  in  every 
detail,  including  time  and  extent  of  territory  involved, 
and  when  the  destruction  is  complete  it  is  an  awful 
thing  for  the  carnivores  that  have  lived  on  the  bunny 
millions  and  multiplied  in  ratio  with  their  abundance. 
Of  all  the  northern  creatures  none  are  more  dependent 
on  the  Rabbits  than  is  the  Canada  Lynx.  It  lives  on 
Rabbits,  follows  the  Rabbits,  thinks  Rabbits,  tastes 
like  Rabbits,  increases  with  them,  and  on  their  failure 
dies  of  starvation  in  the  unrabbited  woods. 

It  must  have  been  a  Hibernian  familiar  with  the 
north  that  said:  "A  Lynx  is  nothing  but  an  animated 
Rabbit  anyway." 

The  Rabbits  of  the  Mackenzie  River  Valley  reached 
their  flood  height  in  the  winter  of  1903-4.  That 
season,  it  seems,  they  actually  reached  billions. 

Late  the  same  winter  the  plague  appeared,  but  did 
not  take  them  at  one  final  swoop.  Next  winter  they 
were  still  numerous,  but  in  1907  there  seemed  not  one 
Rabbit  left  alive  in  the  country.  All  that  summer  we 
sought  for  them  and  inquired  for  them.  We  saw  signs 
of  millions  in  the  season  gone  by;  everywhere  were 
acres  of  saplings  barked  at  the  snow-line ;  the  floor  of 
the  woods,  in  all  parts  visited,  was  pebbled  over  with 


RABBITS  AND  LYNXKS 


97 


pellets;  but  we  saw  not  one  Woodrabbit  and  heard  only 
a  vague  report  of  3  thai  an  Indian  claimed  he  had  seen 
in  a  remote  part  of  the  region  late  in  the  fall. 

Then,  since  the  Lynx  is  the  logical  apex  of  a  pyramid 
of  Rabbits,  it  naturally  goes  down  when  the  Rabbits 
are  removed. 

These  bobtailed  cats  are  actually  starving  and  ready 
to  enter  any  kind  of  a  trap  or  snare  that  carries  a  bait. 
The  slaughter  of  Lynxes  in  its  relation  to  the  Rabbit 
supply  is  shown  by  the  H.  B.  Company  fur  returns 
as  follows: 


In  1900, 

numbe 

r  of  skins 

taken    . 

4,473 

"  1901 

cc 

cc 

CC 

tt 

5,781 

"  1902 

a 

cc 

cc 

(( 

9,117 

"  1903 

cc 

ci 

cc 

(C 

.     19,267 

"  1904 

cc 

cc 

cc 

cc 

36,116 

"  1905 

tt 

tt 

cc 

cc 

58,850 

"  1906 

cc 

it 

cc 

cc 

61,388 

"  1907 

cc 

cc 

a 

cc 

36,201 

"  1908 

tt 

cc 

(C 

cc 

9,664 

Remembering,  then,  that  the  last  of  the  Rabbits  were 
wiped  out  in  the  winter  of  1906-7,  it  will  be  understood 
that  there  were  thousands  of  starving  Lynxes  roaming 
about  the  country.  The  number  that  we  saw,  and  their 
conditions,  all  helped  to  emphasise  the  dire  story  of 
plague  and  famine. 

Some  of  my  notes  are  as  follows : 

May  18th,  Athabaska  River,  on  roof  of  a  trapper's 
hut  found  the  bodies  of  30  L3*nxes. 


98  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

May  19th,  young  Lynx  shot  to-day,  female,  very 
thin,  weighed  only  12^  lbs.,  should  have  weighed  25. 
In  its  stomach  nothing  but  the  tail  of  a  white-footed 
mouse.  Liver  somewhat  diseased.  In  its  bowels  at 
least  one  tapeworm. 

June  3d,  a  young  male  Lynx  shot  to-day  by  one  of 
the  police  boys,  as  previously  recorded.  Starving;  it 
weighed  only  15  lbs. 

June  6th,  adult  female  Lynx  killed,  weighed  15  lbs.; 
stomach  contained  a  Redsquirrel,  a  Chipmunk,  and  a 
Bog-lemming.     (Synaptomys  borealis.) 

June  18th,  young  male  Lynx,  weight  13  lbs.,  shot  by 
Preble  on  Smith  Landing;  had  in  its  stomach  a  Chip- 
munk (borealis)  and  4  small  young  of  the  same,  ap- 
parently a  week  old;  also  a  score  of  pinworms.  How 
did  it  get  the  Chipmunk  family  without  digging  them 
out? 

June  26th,  on  Salt  Mt.  found  the  dried-up  body  of  a 
Lynx  firmly  held  in  a  Bear  trap. 

June  29th,  one  of  the  Jarvis  bear-cub  skins  was 
destroyed  by  the  dogs,  except  a  dried-up  paw,  which 
he  threw  out  yesterday.  This  morning  one  of  the  men 
shot  a  starving  Lynx  in  camp.  Its  stomach  contained 
nothing  but  the  bear  paw  thrown  out  last  night. 

These  are  a  few  of  my  observations;  they  reflect 
the  general  condition — all  were  starving.  Not  one  of 
them  had  any  Rabbit  in  its  stomach;  not  one  had  a 
bellyful ;  none  of  the  females  were  bearing  young  this 
year. 

To  embellish  these  severe  and  skeletal  notes,  I  add 
some  incidents  supplied  by  various  hunters  of  the  north. 


RABBITS   AND   LYNXES  99 

Let  us  remember  that  the  Lynx  is  a  huge  cat  weigh- 
ing 25  to  35  or  even  40  lbs.,  that  it  is  an  ordinary  cat 
multiplied  by  some  4  or  5  diameters,  and  we  shall 
have  a  good  foundation  for  comprehension. 

Murdo  McKay  has  often  seen  2  or  3  Lynxes  together 
in  March,  the  mating  season.  They  fight  and  cater- 
waul like  a  lot  of  tomcats. 

The  un catlike  readiness  of  the  Lynx  to  take  to  water 
is  well  known;  that  it  is  not  wholly  at  home  there  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  if  one  awaits  a  Lynx  at  the 
landing  he  is  making  for,  he  will  not  turn  aside  in  the 
least,  but  come  right  on  to  land,  fight,  and  usually 
perish. 

The  ancient  feud  between  cat  and  dog  is  not  for- 
gotten in  the  north,  for  the  Lynx  is  the  deadly  foe  of 
the  Fox  and  habitually  kills  it  when  there  is  soft  snow 
and  scarcity  of  easier  prey.  Its  broad  feet  are  snow- 
shoes  enabling  it  to  trot  over  the  surface  on  Reynard's 
trail.  The  latter  easily  runs  away  at  first,  but  sink- 
ing deeply  at  each  bound,  his  great  speed  is  done  in 
5  or  6  miles ;  the  Lynx  keeps  on  the  same  steady  trot 
and  finally  claims  its  victim. 

John  Bellecourt  related  that  in  the  January  of  1907, 
at  a  place  40  miles  south  of  Smith  Landing,  he  saw  in  the 
snow  where  a  Lynx  had  run  down  and  devoured  a  Fox. 
.  A  contribution  by  T.  Anderson  runs  thus: 

In  late  March,  1907,  an  Indian  named  Amil  killed 
a  Caribou  near  Fort  Rae.  During  his  absence  a  Lynx 
came  along  and  gorged  itself  with  the  meat,  then  lay 
down  alongside  to  sleep.  A  Silver  Fox  came  next; 
but  the  Lynx  sprang  on  him  and  killed  him.     When 


100  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

Amil  came  back  he  found  the  Fox  and  got  a  large  sum 
for  the  skin;  one  shoulder  was  torn.  He  did  not  see 
the  Lynx  but  saw  the  tracks. 

The  same  old-timer  is  authority  for  a  case  in  which 
the  tables  were  turned. 

A  Desert  Indian  on  the  headwaters  of  the  Gatineau 
went  out  in  the  early  spring  looking  for  Beaver.  At  a 
well-known  pond  he  saw  a  Lynx  crouching  on  a  log, 
watching  the  Beaver  hole  in  the  ice.  The  Indian 
waited.  At  length  a  Beaver  came  up  cautiously  and 
crawled  out  to  a  near  bunch  of  willows;  the  Lynx 
sprang,  but  the  Beaver  was  well  under  way  and  dived 
into  the  hole  with  the  Lynx  hanging  to  him.  After 
a  time  the  Indian  took  a  crotched  pole  and  fished 
about  under  the  ice;  at  last  he  found  something  soft 
and  got  it  out ;  it  was  the  Lynx  drowned. 

Belalise  ascribes  another  notable  achievement  to 
this  animal. 

One  winter  when  hunting  Caribou  near  Fond  du 
Lac  with  an  Indian  named  Tenahoo  (human  tooth), 
they  saw  a  Lynx  sneaking  along  after  some  Caribou: 
they  saw  it  coming  but  had  not  sense  enough  to  run 
away.  It  sprang  on  the  neck  of  a  young  buck;  the 
buck  bounded  away  with  the  Lynx  riding,  but  soon  fell 
dead.  The  hunters  came  up;  the  Lynx  ran  off.  There 
was  little  blood  and  no  large  wound  on  the  buck; 
probably  its  neck  was  broken.  The  Indian  said  the 
Lynx  always  kills  with  its  paw,  and  commonly  kills 
Deer.  David  MacPherson  corroborates  this  and  main- 
tains that  on  occasion  it  will  even  kill  Moose. 

In  southern  settlements,  where  the  Lynx  is  little 


RABBITS  AND  LYNXES 


101 


known,  it  is  painted  as  a  fearsome  beast  of  limitless 
ferocity,  strength,  and  activity.  In  the  north,  where  it 
abounds  and  furnishes  staple  furs  and  meat,  it  is  held 
in  no  such  awe.  It  is  never  known  to  attack  man.  It 
often  follows  his  trail  out  of  curiosity,  and  often  the 
trapper  who  is  so  followed  gets  the  Lynx  by  waiting 


Pole  for  rabbit  snare  and  various  ways  of 
setting  the  noose 

in  ambush;  then  it  is  easily  killed  with  a  charge  of 
duck-shot.  When  caught  in  a  snare  a  very  small  club 
is  used  to  "add  it  to  the  list."  It  seems  tremendously 
active  among  logs  and  brush  piles,  but  on  the  level 
ground  its  speed  is  poor,  and  a  good  runner  can  over- 
take one  in  a  few  hundred  yards. 

David  MacPherson  says  that  last  summer  he  ran 
down  a  Lynx  on  a  prairie  of  Willow  River  (Mackenzie), 
near  Providence.  It  had  some  90  yards  start ;  he  ran 
it  down  in  about  a  mile,  then  it  turned  to  fight  and  he 
shot  it. 

Other  instances  have  been  recorded,  and  finally,  as 
noted  later,  I  was  eye-witness  of  one  of  those  exploits. 
Since  the  creature  can  be  run  down  on  hard  ground,  it 


102  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

is  not  surprising  to  learn  that  men  on  snow-shoes  com- 
monly pursue  it  successfully.  As  long  as  it  trots  it  is 
safe,  but  when  it  gets  alarmed  and  bounds  it  sinks 
and  becomes  exhausted.  It  runs  in  a  circle  of  about 
a  mile,  and  at  last  takes  to  a  tree  where  it  is  easily 
killed.  At  least  one-third  are  taken  in  this  way;  it 
requires  half  an  hour  to  an  hour,  there  must  be  soft 
snow,  and  the  Lynx  must  be  scared  so  he  leaps;  then 
he  sinks;  if  not  scared  he  glides  along  on  his  hairy 
snow-shoes,  refuses  to  tree,  and  escapes  in  thick  woods, 
where  the  men  cannot  follow  quickly. 


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CHAPTER  XV 

EBB  AND  FLOW  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE 

Throughout  this  voyage  we  were  struck  by  the  rarity 
of  some  sorts  of  animals  and  the  continual  remarks 
that  three,  five,  or  six  years  ago  these  same  sorts  were 
extremely  abundant;  and  in  some  few  cases  the  con- 
ditions were  reversed. 

For  example,  during  a  week  spent  at  Fort  Smith, 
Preble  had  out  a  line  of  50  mouse-traps  every  night 
and  caught  only  one  Shrew  and  one  Meadowmouse  in 
the  week.  Four  years  before  he  had  trapped  on  exactly 
the  same  ground,  catching  30  or  40  Meadowmice  every 
night. 

Again,  in  1904  it  was  possible  to  see  100  Muskrats 
any  fine  evening.  In  1907,  though  continually  on  the 
lookout,  I  saw  less  than  a  score  in  six  months.  Red- 
squirrels  varied  in  the  same  way. 

Of  course,  the  Rabbits  themselves  were  the  extreme 
case,  millions  in  1904,  none  at  all  in  1907.  The  present, 
then,  was  a  year  of  low  ebb.  The  first  task  was  to 
determine  whether  this  related  to  all  mammalian  life. 
Apparently  not,  because  Deermicc,  Lynxes,  Heaver, 
and  Caribou  were  abundant.  Yet  these  are  not  their 
maximum  years;  the  accounts  show  them  to  have  been 
so  much  more  numerous  last  year. 

There  is  only  one  continuous  statistical  record  of 
the  abundance  of  animals,  that  is  the  returns  of  the 

107 


108 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


fur  trade.  These  have  been  kept  for  over  200  years, 
and  if  we  begin  after  the  whole  continent  was  covered 
by  fur-traders,  they  are  an  accurate  gauge  of  the  abun- 
dance of  each  species.  Obviously,  this  must  be  so,  for 
the  whole  country  is  trapped  over  ever}?-  year,  all  the 
furs  are  marketed,  most  of  them  through  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  and  whatever  falls  into  other  hands 


Drummond  Vole  or  Fieldmouse 

is  about  the  same  percentage  each  year,  therefore  the 
H.  B.  Co.  returns  are  an  accurate  gauge  of  the  relative 
rise  and  fall  of  the  population. 

Through  the  courtesy  of  its  officials  I  have  secured 
the  Company's  returns  for  the  85  years — 1821-1905  in- 
clusive. I  take  1821  as  the  starting-point,  as  that  was 
the  first  year  when  the  whole  region  was  covered  by 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
important  rivals. 

First,  I  have  given  these  accounts  graphic  tabula- 
tion, and  at  once  many  interesting  facts  are  presented 
to  the  eye.  The  Rabbit  line  prior  to  1845  is  not  reliable. 
Its  subsequent  close  coincidence  with  that  of  Lynx, 
Marten,  Skunk,  and  Fox  is  evidently  cause  and  effect. 

The  Mink  coincides  fairly  well  with  Skunk  and 
Marten. 


EBB  AND  FLOW  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE     109 


The  Muskrat's  variation  probably  has  relation  chiefly 
to  the  amount  of  water,  which,  as  is  well  known,  is 
cyclic  in  the  north-west. 

The  general  resemblance  of  Beaver  and  Otter  lines 
may  not  mean  anything.  If,  as  said,  the  Otter  occa- 
sionally preys  on  the  Beaver, 
these  lines  should  in  some  de- 
gree correspond. 

The  Wolf  line  does  not  man- 
ifest any  special  relationship 
and  seems  to  be  in  a  class  by 
itself.  The  great  destruction 
from  1S40  to  1870  was  prob- 
ably due  to  strychnine,  newly 
introduced  about  then. 

The  Bear,  Badger,  and 
Wolverine  go  along  with  little 

variation.  Probably  the  Coon  does  the  same;  the 
enormous  rise  in  1S67  from  an  average  of  3,500  per 
annum  to  24,000  was  most  likely  a  result  of  accidental 
accumulation  and  not  representative  of  any  special 
abundance.  Finally,  each  and  every  line  manifests 
extraordinary  variability  in  the  '30's.  It  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  the  population  fluctuated  so  enormouslv 
from  one  year  to  another,  but  rather  that  the  facilities 
for  export  were  irregular. 

The  case  is  further  complicated  by  the  fact  that  some 
of  the  totals  represent  part  of  this  year  and  part  of 
last;  nevertheless,  upon  the  whole,  the  following  gen- 
eral principles  arc  deducible: 

(a)  The  high  points  for  each  species  are  with  fair 
regularity  10  years  apart.  - 


Microtus  pocket  hole.     Ed- 
monton, May  10,  1907 


110  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

(6)  In  the  different  species  these  are  not  exactly 
coincident. 

(c)  To  explain  the  variations  we  must  seek  not 
the  reason  for  the  increase — that  is  normal — but  for 
the  destructive  agency  that  ended  the  increase. 

This  is  different  in  three  different  groups. 

First.  The  group  whose  food  and  enemies  fluctu- 
ate but  little.  The  only  examples  of  this  on  our  list 
are  the  Muskrat  and  Beaver,  more  especially  the  Musk- 
rat.  Its  destruction  seems  to  be  due  to  a  sudden  great 
rise  of  the  water  after  the  ice  has  formed,  so  that  the 
Rats  are  drowned;  or  to  a  dry  season  followed  by 
severe  frost,  freezing  most  ponds  to  the  bottom,  so 
that  the  Rats  are  imprisoned  and  starve  to  death,  or 
are  forced  out  to  cross  the  country  in  winter,  and  so 
are  brought  within  the  power  of  innumerable  enem'es. 

How  tremendously  this  operates  may  be  judged 
by  these  facts.  In  1900  along  the  Mackenzie  I  was 
assured  one  could  shoot  20  Muskrats  in  an  hour  after 
sundown.  Next  winter  the  flood  followed  the  frost 
and  the  Rats  seemed  to  have  been  wiped  out.  In 
1907  I  spent  6  months  outdoors  in  the  region  and  saw 
only  17  Muskrats  the  whole  time;  in  1901  the  H.  B.  Co. 
exported  over  1|  millions;  in  1907,  407,472.  The  fact 
that  they  totalled  as  high  was  due,  no  doubt,  to  their 
abundance  in  eastern  regions  not  affected  by  the  dis- 
aster. 

Second.  The  group  that  increases  till  epidemic 
disease  attacks  their  excessively  multiplied  hordes. 
The  Snowshoe-Rabbit  is  the  only  well-known  case  to- 
day, but  there  is  reason  for  the  belief  that  once  the 
Beaver  were  subjected  to  a  similar  process.    Concern- 


EBB  AND  FLOW  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE     HI 

ing  the  Mice  and  Lemmings,  I  have  qoI   complete 

data,  but  they  are  believed  to  multiply  and  suffer  in 
the  same  way. 
Third.    The   purely   carnivorous,   whose   existence 

is  dependent  on  the  Babbits.  This  includes  chiefly 
the  Lynx  and  Fox,  but  in  less  degree  all  the  small 
carnivores. 

In  some  cases  such  as  the  Marten,  over-feeding  seems 
as  inimical  to  multiplication  as  under-feeding,  and  it 
will  be  seen  that  each  year  of  great  increase  for  this 
species  coincided  with  a  medium  year  for  Babbits. 

But  the  fundamental  and  phenomenal  case  is  that 
of  the  Rabbits  themselves.  And  in  solving  this  we 
are  confronted  by  the  generally  attested  facts  that 
when  on  the  increase  they  have  two  or  three  broods 
each  season  and  8  to  10  in  a  brood;  when  they  are 
decreasing  they  have  but  one  brood  and  only  2  or  3 
in  that.  This  points  to  some  obscure  agency  at  work ; 
whether  it  refers  simply  to  the  physical  vigour  of  the 
fact,  or  to  some  uncomprehended  magnetic  or  helio- 
logical  cycle,  is  utterly  unknowrn. 

The  practical  consideration  for  the  collecting  natural- 
ist is  this:  Beaver,  Muskrat,  Otter,  Fisher,  Raccoon, 
Badger,  Wolverine,  Wolf,  Marten,  Fox  reached  the 
low  ebb  in  1904-5.  All  are  on  the  up-grade;  pre- 
sumably the  same  applies  to  the  small  rodents.  Their 
decacycle  will  be  complete  in  1914-15,  so  that  1910-11 
should  be  the  years  selected  by  the  next  collecting 
naturalist  who  would  visit  the  north. 

For  those  who  will  enter  before  that  there  is  a  rea- 
sonable prospect  of  all  these  species  in  fair  numbers, 


112  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

except  perhaps  the  Lynx  and  the  Caribou.  Evidently 
the  former  must  be  near  minimum  now  (1909)  and  the 
latter  would  be  scarce,  if  it  is  subject  to  the  rule  of  the 
decacycle,  though  it  is  not  at  all  proven  that  such 
is  the  case. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   PELICAN  TRIP 

We  were  still  held  back  by  the  dilatory  ways  of  our 
Indian  friends,  so  to  lose  no  time  Preble  and  I  deter- 
mined to  investigate  a  Pelican  rookery. 

Most  persons  associate  the  name  Pelican  with  tropic 
lands  and  fish,  but  ornithologists  have  long  known 
that  in  the  interior  of  the  continent  the  great  white 
Pelican  ranges  nearly  or  quite  to  the  Arctic  circle. 
The  northmost  colony  on  record  was  found  on  an  island 
of  Great  Slave  Lake  (see  Preble,  "N.  A.  Fauna,"  27), 
but  this  is  a  very  small  one.  The  northmost  large 
colony,  and  the  one  made  famous  by  travellers  from 
Alexander  Mackenzie  downward,  is  on  the  great  island 
that  splits  the  Smith  Rapids  above  Fort  Smith.  Here, 
with  a  raging  flood  about  their  rocky  citadel,  they  are 
safe  from  all  spoilers  that  travel  on  the  earth;  only  a 
few  birds  of  the  air  need  they  fear,  and  these  they  have 
strength  to  repel. 

On  June  22  we  set  out  to  explore  this.  Preble, 
Billy,  and  myself,  with  our  canoe  on  a  wagon,  drove 
6  miles  back  on  the  landing  trail  and  launched  the 
canoe  on  the  still  water  above  Mountain  Portage. 
Pelican  Island  must  be  approached  exactly  right,  in 
the  comparatively  slow  water  above  the  rocky  island, 
for  20  feet  away  on  each  side  is  an  irresistible  current 

113 


114  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

leading  into  a  sure-death  cataract.     But  Billy  was  a 
river  pilot  and  we  made  the  point  in  safety. 

Drifted  like  snow  through  the  distant  woods  were 
the  brooding  birds,  but  they  arose  before  we  were 
near  and  sailed  splendidly  overhead  in  a  sweeping, 
wide-fronted  rank.  As  nearly  as  I  could  number  them, 
there  were  120,  but  evidently  some  were  elsewhere,  as 
this  would  not  allow  a  pair  to  each  nest. 

We  landed  safely  and  found  the  nests  scattered 
among  the  trees  and  fallen  timbers.  One  or  two 
mother  birds  ran  off  on  foot,  but  took  wing  as  soon 
as  clear  of  the  woods — none  remained. 

The  nests  numbered  77,  and  there  was  evidence  of 
others  long  abandoned.  There  were  163  eggs,  not 
counting  5  rotten  ones,  lying  outside;  nearly  all  had 
2  eggs  in  the  nest;  3  had  4;  5  had  3;  4  had  1.  One  or 
two  shells  were  found  in  the  woods,  evidently  sucked 
by  Gulls  or  Ravens. 

All  in  the  nests  were  near  hatching.  One  little  one 
had  his  beak  out  and  was  uttering  a  hoarse  chirping; 
a  dozen  blue-bottle  flies  around  the  hole  in  the  shell 
were  laying  their  eggs  in  it  and  on  his  beak.  This  led 
us  to  examine  all  the  nests  that  the  flies  were  buzzing 
around,  and  in  each  case  (six)  we  found  the  same  state 
of  affairs,  a  young  one  with  his  beak  out  and  the  flies 
"blowing"  around  it.  All  of  these  were  together  in 
one  corner,  where  were  a  dozen  nests,  probably  an- 
other colony  of  earlier  arrival. 

We  took  about  a  dozen  photos  of  the  place  (large 
and  small).  Then  I  set  my  camera  with  the  long  tube 
to  get  the  old  ones,  and  we  went  to  lunch  at  the  other 


THE  PELICAN  TRIP  L15 

end  of  the  island.  It  was  densely  wooded  and  about 
an  acn-  in  extent, so  we  thought  we  should  bo  forgotten. 
The  old  ones  circled  high  overhead  but  al  last  dropped, 
I  thought,  back  to  the  nests.  After  an  hour  and  a  half 
]  returned  to  the  ambush;  not  a  Pelican  was  there. 
Two  Ravens  flew  high  over,  but  the  Pelicans  were  far 
away,  and  all  as  when  we  went  away,  leaving  the 
young  to  struggle  or  get  a  death-chill  as  they  might. 
So  much  for  the  pious  Pelican,  the  emblem  of  reckless 
devotion — a  common,  dirty  little  cock  Sparrow  would 
put  them  all  to  shame. 

We  brought  away  only  the  5  rotten  eggs.  About 
half  of  the  old  Pelicans  had  horns  on  the  bill. 

On  the  island  we  saw  a  flock  of  White-winged  Cross- 
bills and  heard  a  Song-sparrow.  Gulls  were  seen  about. 
The  white  spruce  cones  littered  the  ground  and  were 
full  of  seed,  showing  that  no  Redsquirrel  was  on  the 
island. 

We  left  successfully  by  dashing  out  exactly  as  we 
came,  between  the  two  dangerous  currents,  and  got 
well  away. 


Spruce  net-float  20  x  5  x  J  inches 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  THIRD   BUFFALO  HUNT 

The  Indians  are  simply  large  children,  and  further, 
no  matter  how  reasonable  your  proposition,  they  take 
a  long  time  to  consider  it  and  are  subject  to  all  kinds 
of  mental  revulsion.  So  we  were  lucky  to  get  away 
from  Fort  Smith  on  July  4  with  young  Francois 
Bezkya  as  guide.  He  was  a  full-blooded  Chipewyan 
Indian,  so  full  that  he  had  knowledge  of  no  other 
tongue,  and  Billy  had  to  be  go-between. 

Bezkya,  the  son  of  my  old  patient,  came  well  rec- 
ommended as  a  good  man  and  a  moose-hunter.  A 
"good  man"  means  a  strong,  steady  worker,  as  canoe- 
man  or  portager.  He  may  be  morally  the  vilest  out- 
cast unhung;  that  in  no  wise  modifies  the  phrase 
"he  is  a  good  man."  But  more:  the  present  was  a 
moose-hunter;  this  is  a  wonderfully  pregnant  phrase. 
Moose-hunting  by  fair  stalking  is  the  pinnacle  of 
woodcraft.  The  Crees  alone,  as  a  tribe,  are  supposed  to 
be  masters  of  the  art;  but  many  of  the  Chipewyans 
are  highly  successful.  One  must  be  a  consummate 
trailer,  a  good  shot,  have  tireless  limbs  and  wind  and 
a  complete  knowledge  of  the  animal's  habits  and  ways 
of  moving  and  thinking.  One  must  watch  the  wind, 
without  ceasing,  for  no  hunter  has  the  slightest  chance 
of  success  if  once  the  Moose  should  scent  him.    This 

116 


THE  THIRD   BUFFALO   HUNT 


11 


last  is  fundamental,  a  three-times  sacred  principle. 
Not  long  ago  one  of  these  Chipowyans  went  to  con- 
fessional. Although  a  year  had  passed  since  last  he 
got  cleaned  up,  he  could  think  of  nothing  to  confess. 
Oh!  spotless  soul!  However,  under  pressure  of  the 
priest,  he  at  length  remembered  a  black  transgression. 
The  fall  before,  while  hunting,  he  went  to  the  wind- 


Little  Buffalo  River  looking  north.    July  8, 1907 

ward  of  a  thicket  that  seemed  likely  to  hold  his  Moose, 
because  on  the  lee,  the  proper  side,  the  footing  hap- 
pened to  be  very  bad,  and  so  he  lost  his  Moose.  Yes! 
there  was  indeed  a  dark  shadow  on  his  recent  past. 

A  man  may  be  a  good  hunter,  i.  e.,  an  all-round 
trapper  and  woodman,  but  not  a  moose-hunter.  At 
Fort  Smith  are  two  or  three  scores  of  hunters,  and 
yet  I  am  told  there  are  only  three  moosc-hnntcrs.  The 
phrase  is  not  usually  qualified;  he  is,  or  is  not,  a 
moose-hunter.  Just  as  a  man  is,  or  is  not,  an  Oxford 
M.A.  The  force,  then,  of  the  phrase  appears,  and 
we  were  content  to  learn  that  young  Bezkva,  besides 
knowing  the  Buffalo  country,  was  also  a  good  man 
and  a  moose-hunter. 


118  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

We  set  out  in  two  canoes,  Bezkya  and  Jarvis  in 
the  small  one,  Billy,  Selig,  Preble,  and  I  in  the  large 
one,  leaving  the  other  police  boys  to  make  Fort  Res- 
olution in  the  H.  B.  steamer. 

Being  the  4th  of  July,  the  usual  torrential  rains  set 
in.  During  the  worst  of  it  we  put  in  at  Salt  River 
village.    It  was  amusing  to  see  the  rubbish  about  the 


Cornus  canadensis 


doors  of  these  temporarily  deserted  cabins.  The  mid- 
den-heaps of  the  Cave-men  are  our  principal  sources 
of  information  about  those  by-gone  races;  the  future 
ethnologist  who  discovers  Salt  River  midden-heaps 
will  find  all  the  usual  skulls,  bones,  jaws,  teeth,  flints, 
etc.,  mixed  with  moccasin  beads  from  Venice,  brass 
cartridges  from  New  England,  broken  mirrors  from 
France,  Eley  cap-boxes  from  London,  copper  rings, 
silver  pins,  lead  bullets,  and  pewter  spoons,  and  inter- 
persed  with  them  bits  of  telephone  wires  and  the 
fragments  of  gramophone  discs.  I  wonder  what  they 
will  make  of  the  last! 

Eight  miles  farther  we  camped  in  the  rain,  reaching 
the  Buffalo  Portage  next  morning  at  10,  and  had  every- 
thing over  its  5  miles  by  7  o'clock  at  night. 


THE  THIRD   BUFFALO  HUNT 


110 


It  is  easily  set  down  on  paper,  but  the  uninitiated 

can  scarcely  realise  the  fearful  toil  of  portaging.  If 
you  are  an  office  man,  suppose  you  take  an  angular 
box  weighing  20  or  30  pounds;  if  a  farmer,  double  the 
weight,  poise  it  on 
your  shoulders  or 
otherwise,  as  you 
please,  and  carry  it 
half  a  mile  on  a  level 
pavement  in  cool, 
bright  weather,  and 
I  am  mistaken  if  you 
do  not  find  yourself 
suffering  horribly 
before  the  end  of  a 
quarter-mile;  the 
last  part  of  the  trip 
will  have  been  made 
in  something  like 
mortal  agony.  Re- 
member, then,  that 
each  of  these  port  a - 
gers  was  carrying 
150  to  2.30  pounds 
of  broken  stuff,  not  half  a  mile,  but  several  miles, 
not  on  level  pavement,  but  over  broken  rocks,  up 
banks,  through  quagmires  and  brush — in  short,  across 
ground  that  would  be  difficult  walking  without  any 
burden,  and  not  in  cool,  clear  weather,  but  through 
stifling  swamps  with  no  free  hand  to  ease  the  myriad 
punctures  of  his  body,  face,  and  limbs  whenever  un- 


Rainn 


120  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

sufficiently  protected  from  the  stingers  that  roam  in 
clouds.  It  is  the  hardest  work  I  ever  saw  performed 
by  human  beings ;  the  burdens  are  heavier  than  some 
men  will  allow  their  horses  to  carry. 

Yet  all  this  frightful  labour  was  cheerfully  gone 
through  by  white  men,  half-breeds,  and  Indians  alike. 
They  accept  it  as  a  part  of  their  daily  routine.    This 


x» 


Linnsea  americana 

fact  alone  is  enough  to  guarantee  the  industrial  future 
of  the  red-man  when  the  hunter  life  is  no  longer  pos- 
sible. 

Next  day  we  embarked  on  the  Little  Buffalo  River, 
beginning  what  should  have  been  and  would  have 
been  a  trip  of  memorable  joys  but  for  the  awful, 
awful,  awful — see  Chapter  IX. 

The  Little  Buffalo  is  the  most  beautiful  river  in 
the  whole  world  except,  perhaps,  its  affluent,  the 
Nyarling. 

This  statement  sounds  like  the  exaggeration  of  mere 
impulsive  utterance.  Perhaps  it  is;  but  I  am  writing 
now  after  thinking  the  matter  over  for  two  and  a  half 
years,  during  which  time  I  have  seen  a  thousand 


THE  TIII1M)   P.ITFALO   IITXT  121 

others,  including  the  upper  Thames,  the  Afton,  the 
Seine,  the  Amo,  the  Tiber,  the  Iser,  the  Spree,  and  the 
Rhine. 

A  hundred  miles  long  is  this  uncharted  stream;  fifty 
feet  its  breadth  of  limpid  tide;  eight  feet  deep,  crystal 
clear,  calm,  slow,  and  deep  to  the  margin.  A  steamer 
could  ply  on  its  placid,  unobstructed  Hood,  a  child 
could  navigate  it  anywhere.    The  heavenly  beaut y  of 


Cranberry  fruit  and  flowers 

the  shores,  with  virgin  forest  of  fresh,  green  spruces 
towering  a  hundred  h'ct  on  every  side,  or  varied  in  open 
places  with  long  rows  and  thick-set  hedges  of  the  gor- 
geous, wild,  red,  Athabaska  rose,  made  a  stream  that 
most  canoemen,  woodmen,  and  naturalists  would 
think  without  a  fault  or  flaw,  and  with  every  river 
beauty  in  its  highest  possible  degree.  Not  trees  and 
flood  alone  had  strenuous  power  to  win  our  souls;  at 
every  point  and  bank,  in  every  bend,  were  living  crea- 
tures of  the  north,  Beaver  and  Bear,  not  often  seen 
but  abundant;  Moose  tracks  showed  from  time  to  time 
and  birds  were  here  in  thousands.  Rare  winter  birds, 
as  we  had  long  been  taught  to  think  them  in  our  south- 
ern homes;  here  we  found  them  in  their  native  land 
and  heard  not  a  few  sweet  melodies,  of  which  in  far- 
away Ontario,  New  Jersey,  and  Maryland  we  had  beeo 


122 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


favoured  only  with  promising  scraps  when  wintry 
clouds  were  broken  by  the  sun.  Nor  were  the  old 
familiar  ones  away — Flicker,  Sapsucker,  Hairy  Wood- 
pecker, Kingfisher,  Least  Flycatcher,  Alder  Flycatcher, 
Robin,  Crow,  and  Horned  Owl  were  here  to  mingle 
their  noises  with  the  stranger  melodies 
and  calls  of  Lincoln  Sparrow,  Fox  Spar- 
row, Olive-sided  Flycatcher,  Snipe,  Rusty 
Blackbird,  and  Bohemian  Waxwing. 

Never  elsewhere  have  I  seen  Horned 
Owls  so  plentiful.  I  did  not  know  that 
there  were  so  many  Bear  and  Beaver  left; 
I  never  was  so  much  impressed  by  the  in- 
spiring raucous  clamour  of  the  Cranes, 
the  continual  spatter  of  Ducks,  the  cries 
of  Gulls  and  Yellowlegs.  Hour  after  hour 
we  paddled  down  that  stately  river  ad- 
ding our  3 J  miles  to  its  1  mile  speed; 
each  turn  brought  to  view  some  new  and 
lovelier  aspect  of  bird  and  forest  life.  I 
never  knew  a  land  of  balmier  air;  I  never 
felt  the  piney  breeze  more  sweet;  no- 
where but  in  the  higher  mountains  is  there  such  a  tonie 
sense  abroad;  the  bright  woods  and  river  reaches 
were  eloquent  of  a  clime  whose  maladies  are  mostly 
foreign-born.  But  alas!  I  had  to  view  it  all  swaddled, 
body,  hands,  and  head,  like  a  bee-man  handling  his 
swarms.  Songs  were  muffled,  scenes  were  dimmed  by 
the  thick,  protecting,  suffocating  veil  without  which 
men  can  scarcely  live. 
Ten  billion  dollars  would  be  all  too  small  reward, 


Stellaria 


tttttt  Buff*'0  *,vfP 


E"  V  -en-.--" 


C^i'Sl^K^ 


Sketch  Map  of  5-mil<-  porl  ige  from  Great 
Slave  River  to  Little  Buffalo  River 

Bi  E.  T.  MMi  Juno.  1*07 


124 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


a  trifle  totally  inadequate  to  compensate,  mere  nominal 
recognition  of  the  man  who  shall  invent  and  realise  a 
scheme  to  save  this  earthly  paradise  from  this  its  damn- 
ing pest  and  malediction. 


f»|H« 


Buffalo  and  Nyarling  Rivers 

By  E.  T.  Seton,  July,  1907 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DOWN  TO  FUNDAMENTALS 

At  8.30  a.  M.,  10  miles  from  the  portage,  we  came  to 
the  Clew-ee,  or  White  Fish  River;  at  6.30  p.  m.  made 
the  Sass  Tessi,  or  Bear  River,  and  here  camped,  hav- 
ing covered  fully  40  miles. 

Now  for  the  first  time  we  were  all  together,  with 
leisure  to  question  our  guide  and  plan  in  detail.  But 
all  our  mirth  and  hopes  were  rudely  checked  by  Cor- 
poral Selig,  who  had  entire  charge  of  the  commissary, 
announcing  that  there  were  only  two  days'  rations  left. 

In  the  dead  calm  that  followed  this  bomb-shell  we 
all  did  some  thinking;  then  a  rapid  fire  of  questions 
demonstrated  the  danger  of  having  a  guide  who  does 
not  speak  our  language. 

It  seems  that  when  asked  how  many  days'  rations  we 
should  take  on  this  Buffalo  hunt  he  got  the  idea  how 
many  thin*  to  the  Buffalo.  He  said  five,  meaning  five 
days  each  way  and  as  much  time  as  we  wished  there. 
We  were  still  two  days  from  our  goal.  Now  what  r 
should  we  do?  Scurry  I  Kick  to  the  fort  or  go  ahead 
and  trust  to  luck?  Every  man  present  voted  "go 
ahead  on  half  rations." 

We  had  good,  healthy  appetites;    half  rations  was 

veritable  hardship;  hut  our  hollow  insides  made  hearty 
laughing.    Preble  disappeared  as  Boon  as  we  camped, 

125 


126  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

and  now  at  the  right  time  he  returned  and  silently 
threw  at  the  cook's  feet  a  big  6-pound  Pike.  It  was 
just  right,  exactly  as  it  happens  in  the  most  satisfac- 
tory books  and  plays.  It  seems  that  he  always  carried 
a  spoon-hook,  and  went  at  once  to  what  he  rightly 
judged  the  best  place,  a  pool  at  the  junction  of  the 
two  rivers.  The  first  time  he  threw  he  captured  the 
big  fellow.  Later  he  captured  three  smaller  ones  in 
the  same  place,  but  evidently  there  were  no  more. 

That  night  we  had  a  glorious  feast;  every  one  had  as 
much  as  he  could  eat,  chiefly  fish.  Next  morning  we 
went  on  4J  miles  farther,  then  came  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Nyarling  Tessi,  or  Underground  River,  that  joins 
the  Buffalo  from  the  west.  This  was  our  stream;  this 
was  the  highway  to  the  Buffalo  country.  It  was  a 
miniature  of  the  river  we  were  leaving,  but  a  little 
quicker  in  current.  In  about  2  miles  we  came  to  a 
rapid,  but  were  able  to  paddle  up.  About  5  miles 
farther  was  an  immense  and  ancient  log-jamb  that 
filled  the  stream  from  bank  to  bank  for  190  yards. 
What  will  be  the  ultimate  history  of  this  jamb?  It  is 
added  to  each  year,  the  floods  have  no  power  to  move 
it,  logs  in  water  practically  never  rot,  there  is  no  pros- 
pect of  it  being  removed  by  natural  agencies.  I  sus- 
pect that  at  its  head  the  river  comes  out  of  a  succession 
of  such  things,  whence  its  name  Underground  River. 

Around  this  jamb  is  an  easy  portage.  We  were  far 
now  from  the  haunts  of  any  but  Indians  on  the  winter 
hunt,  so  were  surprised  to  see  on  this  portage  trail 
the  deep  imprints  of  a  white  man's  boot.  These  were 
made  apparently  within  a  week,  by  whom  I  never 


DOWN  TO  FUNDAMENTALS  127 

learned.     On  the  bank  not  far  away  we  saw  a  Lynx 
pursued  overhead  by  two  scolding  Redsquirrels. 

Lunch  consisted  of  what  remained  of  the  Pike,  but 
that  afternoon  Bezkya  saw  two  Brown  Cranes  on  a 
meadow,  and  manoeuvring  till  they  were  in  line  killed 
both  with  one  shot  of  his  rifle  at  over  100  yards,  the 
best  shot  I  ever  knew  an  Indian  to  make.     Still,  two 


Double  lodge  in  bank  12  yards  long,  4J  feet  high- 
July  7,  1907 

Cranes  totalling  1G  pounds  gross  is  not  enough  meat  to 
last  five  men  a  week,  so  we  turned  to  our  Moose-hunter. 
"Yes,  he  could  get  a  Moose."  He  went  on  in  the 
small  canoe  with  Billy;  we  were  to  follow,  and  if  we 
passed  his  canoe  leave  a  note.  Seven  miles  above  the 
log-jamb,  the  river  forked  south  and  west;  here  a 
note  from  the  guide  sent  us  up  the  South  Fork;  later 
we  passed  his  canoe  on  the  bank  and  knew  thai  he  had 
landed  and  was  surely  on  his  way  "to  market ."  What 
a  comfortable  feeling  it  was  to  remember  that  Bezkya 
was  a  moose-hunter!  We  left  word  and  travelled  till 
7,  having  come  11  miles  up  from  the  river's  mouth. 
Our  supper  that  night  was  Crane,  a  little  piece  of  bread 
each,  seme  soup,  and  some  tea. 


128  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

At  10  the  hunters  came  back  empty-handed.  Yes, 
they  found  a  fresh  Moose  track,  but  the  creature  was 
so  pestered  by  clouds  of that  he  travelled  con- 
tinually as  fast  as  he  could  against  the  wind.  They 
followed  all  day  but  could  not  overtake  him.  They 
saw  a  Beaver  but  failed  to  get  it.  No  other  game  was 
found. 

Things  were  getting  serious  now,  since  all  our  food 
consisted  of  1  Crane,  1  tin  of  brawn,  1  pound  of  bread, 
2  pounds  of  pork,  with  some  tea,  coffee,  and  sugar, 
not  more  than  one  square  meal  for  the  crowd,  and  we 
were  5  men  far  from  supplies,  unless  our  hunting  proved 
successful,  and  going  farther  every  day. 

Next  morning  (July  9)  each  man  had  coffee,  one 
lady's  finger  of  bread,  and  a  single  small  slice  of  bacon. 
Hitherto  from  choice  I  had  not  eaten  bacon  in  this 
country,  although  it  was  a  regular  staple  served  at 
each  meal.  But  now,  with  proper  human  perversity, 
I  developed  an  extraordinary  appetite  for  bacon.  It 
seemed  quite  the  most  delicious  gift  of  God  to  man. 
Given  bacon,  and  I  was  ready  to  forgo  all  other  foods. 
Nevertheless,  we  had  divided  the  last  of  it.  I  cut  my 
slice  in  two,  revelled  in  half,  then  secretly  wrapped  the 
other  piece  in  paper  and  hid  it  in  the  watch-pocket  of 
my  vest,  thinking  "the  time  is  in  sight  when  the  whole 
crowd  will  be  thankful  to  have  that  scrap  of  bacon 
among  them."  (As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  never  got 
it,  for  five  days  later  we  found  a  starving  dog  and  he 
was  so  utterly  miserable  that  he  conjured  that  scrap 
from  the  pocket  next  my  heart.) 

We  were  face  to  face  with  something  like  starvation 


DOWN  TO  FUNDAMENTALS  129 

now;  the  game  seemed  to  shun  us  and  our  store  of 
victuals  was  done.  Yet  no  one  talked  of  giving  up  or 
going  back.  We  set  out  to  reach  the  Buffalo  country, 
and  reach  it  we  would. 

Thai  morning  we  got  7  little  Teal,  so  our  lunch  was 
sure,  but  straight  Teal  without  accompaniments  is  nol 
very  satisfying;  we  all  went  very  hungry.  And  with 
one  mind  we  all  thought  and  talked  about  the  good 
dinners  or  specially  fine  food  we  once  had  had.  Selig's 
dream  of  bliss  was  a  porterhouse  steak  with  a  glass  of 
foaming  beer;  Jarvis  thought  champagne  and  roast 
turkey  spelt  heaven  just  then;  I  thought  of  my  home 
breakfasts  and  the  Beaux-Arts  at  New  York;  but  Billy 
said  he  would  he  perfectly  happy  if  he  could  have  one 
whole  bannock  all  to  himself.    Preble  said  nothing. 


CHAPTER  XIX    , 

WHITE  MAN  AND   RED.    MEAT,   BUT 
NOTHING  MORE 

There  was  plenty  of  hollow  hilarity  but  no  word  of 
turning  back.  But  hold!  yes,  there  was.  There  was 
one  visage  that  darkened  more  each  day,  and  finally 
the  gloomy  thoughts  broke  forth  in  words  from  the 
lips  of — our  Indian  guide.  His  recent  sullen  silence 
was  now  changed  to  open  and  rebellious  upbraiding. 
"He  didn't  come  here  to  starve.  He  could  do  that 
at  home.  He  was  induced  to  come  by  a  promise  of 
plenty  of  flour."  All  of  which  was  perfectly  true. 
But,  he  went  on,  "We  were  still  1|  days  from  the 
Buffalo,  and  we  were  near  the  head  of  navigation;  it 
was  a  case  of  tramp  through  the  swamp  with  our  beds 
and  guns,  living  on  the  country  as  we  went,  and  if  we 
didn't  have  luck  the  Coyotes  and  Ravens  would." 

Before  we  had  time  to  discuss  this  prospect,  a  decid- 
ing step  was  announced  by  Jarvis.  He  was  under 
positive  orders  to  catch  the  steamer  Wrigley  at  Fort 
Resolution  on  the  evening  of  July  10.  It  was  now 
mid-day  of  July  9,  and  only  by  leaving  at  once  and 
travelling  all  night  could  he  cover  the  intervening 
60  miles. 

So  then  and  there  we  divided  the  remnants  of  food 
evenly,  for  "Bezkya  was  a  moose-hunter." 

130 


WHITE  MAN  AND  RED  131 

Then  Major  Jarvis  and  Corporal  Selig  boarded  the 
smaller  canoe.  We  shook  hands  warmly,  and  I  at 
least  had  a  lump  in  my  throat;  they  were  such  good 
fellows  in  camp,  and  to  part  this  way  when  we  espe- 
cially felt  bound  to  stick  together,  going  each  of  us 
on  a  journey  of  privation  and  peril,  seemed  especially 
hard;  and  we  were  so  hungry.  But  we  were  living 
our  lives.  They  rounded  the  bend,  we  waved  good- 
bye, and  I  have  never  seen  them  since. 

Hitherto  I  was  a  guest;  now  I  was  in  sole  command, 
and  called  a  council  of  war.  Billy  was  stanch  and 
ready  to  go  anywhere  at  any  cost.  So  was  Preble. 
Bezkya  was  sulky  and  rebellious.  Physically,  I  had 
been  at  the  point  of  a  total  breakdown  when  I  left 
home;  the  outdoor  life  had  been  slowly  restoring  me, 
but  the  last  few  days  had  weakened  me  sadly  and  I 
was  not  fit  for  a  long  expedition  on  foot.  But  of  one 
thing  I  was  sure,  we  must  halt  till  we  got  food.  A 
high  wind  was  blowing  and  promised  some  respite  to 
the  Moose  from  the  little  enemy  that  sings  except 
when  he  stings,  so  I  invited  Bezkya  to  gird  up  his 
loins  and  make  another  try  for  Moose. 

Nothing  loath,  he  set  off  with  Billy.  I  marked  them 
well  as  they  went,  one  lithe,  sinewy,  active,  animal- 
eyed;  the  other  solid  and  sturdy,  following  doggedly, 
keeping  up  by  sheer  blundering  strength.  I  could  not 
but  admire  them,  each  in  his  kind. 

Two  hours  later  I  heard  two  shots,  and  toward 
evening  the  boys  came  back  slowly,  tired  but  happy, 
burdened  with  the  meat,  for  Bezkya  nxis  a  moose- 
hunter. 


132  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

Many  shekels  and  gladly  would  I  have  given  to  have 
been  on  that  moose  hunt.  Had  I  seen  it  I  could  have 
told  it.  These  men,  that  do  it  so  well,  never  can  tell 
it.  Yet  in  the  days  that  followed  I  picked  up  a  few 
significant  phrases  that  gave  glimpses  of  its  action. 

Through  the  crooked  land  of  endless  swamp  this  son 
of  the  woods  had  set  out  "straightaway  west."  A 
big  track  appeared  crossing  a  pool,  seeming  fresh. 
"No!  he  go  by  yesterday;  water  in  track  not  muddy." 
Another  track  was  found.  "Yes,  pretty  good;  see 
bite  alder.  Alder  turn  red  in  two  hours;  only  half 
red."  Follow  long.  "Look  out,  Billy;  no  go  there; 
wrong  wind.  Yes,  he  pass  one  hour;  see  bit  willow 
still  white.  Stop;  he  pass  half-hour;  see  grass  still 
bend.  He  lie  down  soon.  How  know?  Oh,  me  know. 
Stand  here,  Billy.    He  sleep  in  thick  willow  there." 

Then  the  slow  crawl  in  absolute  stillness,  the  long 
wait,  the  betrayal  of  the  huge  beast  by  the  ear  that 
wagged  furiously  to  shake  off  the  winged  blood- 
suckers. The  shot,  the  rush,  the  bloody  trail,  the  pause 
in  the  opening  to  sense  the  foe,  the  shots  from  both 
hunters,  and  the  death. 

Next  day  we  set  out  in  the  canoe  for  the  Moose, 
which  lay  conveniently  on  the  river  bank.  After  push- 
ing through  the  alders  and  poling  up  the  dwindling 
stream  for  a  couple  of  hours  we  reached  the  place  two 
miles  up,  by  the  stream.  It  was  a  big  bull  with  no 
bell,  horns  only  two-thirds  grown  but  46  inches  across; 
the  tips  soft  and  springy;  one  could  stick  a  knife 
through   them  anywhere  outside  of  the  basal  half. 


WHITE  MAN  AND  RED  133 

Bezkya  says  they  arc  good  to  cat  in  this  stage;  but 
we  had  about  700  pounds  of  good  meat  so  did  not 
try.  The  velvet  on  the  horns  is  marked  by  a  scries  of 
concentric  curved  lines  of  white  hair,  across  the  lines 
of  growth;  these,  I  take  it,  correspond  with  times  of 
check  by  chill  or  hardship. 

We  loaded  our  canoe  with  meat  and  pushed  on 
toward  the  Buffalo  country  for  two  miles  more  up 
the  river.  Navigation  now  became  very  difficult  on 
account  of  alders  in  the  stream.  Bezkya  says  that 
only  a  few  hundred  yards  farther  and  the  river  comes 
from  underground.  This  did  not  prove  quite  correct, 
for  I  went  half  a  mile  farther  by  land  and  found  no 
change. 

Here,  however,  we  did  find  some  Buffalo  tracks;  one 
went  through  our  camp,  and  farther  on  were  many, 
but  all  dated  from  the  spring  and  were  evidently  six 
weeks  old. 

There  were  no  recent  tracks,  which  was  discouraging, 
and  the  air  of  gloom  over  our  camp  grew  heavier. 
The  weather  had  been  bad  ever  since  we  left  Fort 
Smith,  cloudy  or  shower}\  This  morning  for  the  first 
time  the  day  dawned  with  a  clear  sky,  but  by  noon  it 
was  cloud}'  and  soon  again  raining.  Our  diet  con- 
sisted of  nothing  but  Moose  meat  and  tea;  we  had 
neither  sugar  nor  salt,  and  the  craving  for  farinaceous 
food  was  strong  and  growing.  We  were  what  the 
natives  call  "flour  hungry";  our  three-times-a-day 
prospect  of  Moose,  Moose,  Moose  was  becoming  loath- 
some. Bezkya  was  openly  rebellious  onco  more,  and 
even  my  two  trusties  were  very,  very  glum.     Still,  the 


134  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

thought  of  giving  up  was  horrible,  so  I  made  a  prop- 
osition: "Bezkya,  you  go  out  scouting  on  foot  and 
see  if  you  can  locate  a  band.  I'll  give  you  five  dollars 
extra  if  you  show  me  one  Buffalo." 

At  length  he  agreed  to  go  provided  I  would  set  out 
for  Fort  Resolution  at  once  unless  he  found  Buffalo 
near.  This  was  leaving  it  all  in  his  hands.  While  I 
was  considering,  Preble  said:  "I  tell  you  this  delay 
is  playing  the  mischief  with  our  Barren-Ground  trip; 
we  should  have  started  for  the  north  ten  days  ago," 
winch  was  in  truth  enough  to  settle  the  matter. 

I  knew  perfectly  well  beforehand  what  Bezkya's 
report  would  be. 

At  6.30  he  returned  to  say  he  found  nothing  but  old 
tracks.  There  were  no  Buffalo  nearer  than  two  days' 
travel  on  foot,  and  he  should  like  to  return  at  once  to 
Fort  Resolution. 

There  was  no  further  ground  for  debate ;  every  one 
and  everything  now  was  against  me.  Again  I  had  to 
swallow  the  nauseating  draught  of  defeat  and  retreat. 

"We  start  northward  first  thing  in  the  morning," 
I  said  briefly,  and  our  third  Buffalo  hunt  was  over. 

These,  then,  were  the  results  so  far  as  Buffalo  were 
concerned :  Old  tracks  as  far  down  as  last  camp,  plenty 
of  old  tracks  here  and  westward,  but  the  Buffalo,  as 
before  on  so  many  occasions,  were  two  days'  travel 
to  the  westward. 

During  all  this  time  I  had  lost  no  good  opportunity 
of  impressing  on  the  men  the  sinfulness  of  leaving  a 
camp-fire  burning  and  of  taking  life  unnecessarily; 
and  now  I  learned  of  fruit  from  this  seeding.    That 


WHITE  MAN  AND  RED  L35 

night  Bezkya  was  in  a  better  humour,  for  obvious 
reasons;  he  talked  freely  and  told  me  how  that  day  he 
came  on  a  large  Blackbear  which  at  once  took  to  a 
tree.  The  Indian  had  his  rifle,  but  thought,  'lI  can 
kill  him,  yet  I  can't  stop  to  skin  him  or  use  his  meat/' 
so  left  him  in  peace. 

This  is  really  a  remarkable  incident,  almost  unique. 
I  am  glad  to  believe  that  I  had  something  to  do  with 
causing  such  unusual  forbearance. 


Blackfoot  lodge,  Calgary 


CHAPTER  XX 

ON  THE  NYARLING 

All  night  it  rained;  in  the  morning  it  was  dull,  foggy, 
and  showery.  Everything  was  very  depressing,  espe- 
cially in  view  of  this  second  defeat.  The  steady  diet 
of  Moose  and  tea  was  debilitating;  my  legs  trembled 
under  me.  I  fear  I  should  be  a  poor  one  to  stand 
starvation,  if  so  slight  a  brunt  should  play  such  havoc 
with  my  strength. 

We  set  out  early  to  retrace  the  course  of  the  Nyarling, 
which  in  spite  of  associated  annoyances  and  disap- 
pointments will  ever  shine  forth  in  my  memory  as  the 
"Beautiful  River." 

It  is  hard,  indeed,  for  words  to  do  it  justice.  The 
charm  of  a  stream  is  always  within  three  feet  of  the 
surface  and  ten  feet  of  the  bank.  The  broad  Slave, 
then,  by  its  size  wins  in  majesty  but  must  lose  most 
all  its  charm;  the  Buffalo,  being  fifty  feet  wide,  has 
some  waste  water;  but  the  Nyarling,  half  the  size,  has 
its  birthright  compounded  and  intensified  in  manifold 
degree.  The  water  is  clear,  two  or  three  feet  deep  at 
the  edge  of  the  grassy  banks,  seven  to  ten  feet  in  mid- 
channel,  without  bars  or  obstructions  except  the  two 
log-jambs  noted,  and  these  might  easily  be  removed. 
The  current  is  about  one  mile  and  a  half  an  hour,  so 
that  canoes  can  readily  pass  up  or  down;  the  scenery 

136 


July  camp  on  the  Great  Slave  Lake 


Tin-  Nyarling  Tessl  or  Underground  River 


ON  THE   NYARLING 


137 


varies  continually  and  is  always  beautiful.    Every- 
thing that    I  have  said  of  the  Little  Buffalo  applil 

the  Nyarling  with  fourfold  force,  because  of 
varied  scenery  and  greater  range  of  bird  and  other 
life    Sometimes,   like   the 
larger  stream,  it  pn 
long,  straight    vista   of   a 
quarter-mile  through  a  sol- 
emn aisle  in  the  foresl  of 
mighty  spruce  trees  thai 
tower  a   hundred   feet    in 
heighl  .all   black   wit  h 
gloom,  green  with  health, 
and  gray  with  moss. 

onetimes  its  channel 

winds   in    and  oul    of  open 

grassy  meadows  that  are 
dot  t  ed  wi  t  h  clumps  of 
rounded    tp  in     an 

lish  park.  Now  it  nar- 
rows to  a  deep  and  sinu- 
ous bed,  through  alder 

rank  and  reaching  that 
they    meet     overhead     and 

form  a  .-hade  of  golden 

n:   and  again   it    widens  out   into  reedy  lake-,  the 
summer    home    of    countless    Dud.       I  Tattlers 

.  I  Kill  .  Rails,  Blackbirds,  and  half 
a  hundred  of  the  lesser  tril         Sometimes  the  f< 
ground   is    rounded   m.  kinnikinnik   in   snowy 

Bower,  or  again  a  far-strung  growth  of  the  needle 


138 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


bloom,  richest  and  reddest  of  its  tribe — the  Athabaska 
rose.  At  times  it  is  skirted  by  tall  poplar  woods  where 
the  claw-marks  on  the  trunks  are  witness  of  the  many 

Blackbears,  or  some  tamarack 
swamp  showing  signs  and  proofs 
that  hereabouts  a  family  of 
Moose  had  fed  to-day,  or  by  a 
broad  and  broken  trail  that  told 
of  a  Buffalo  band  passing  weeks 
ago.  And  while  we  gazed  at 
scribbled  records,  blots,  and 
marks,  the  loud  "slap  plong"  of 
a  Beaver  showed  from  time  to 
time  that  the  thrifty  ones  had  dived  at  our  approach. 
On  the  way  up  Jarvis  had  gone  first  in  the  small 
canoe;  he  saw  2  Bears,  3  Beaver,  and  1  Lynx;  I  saw 
nothing  but  birds.  On  the  way  down,  being  alone, 
the  luck  came  my  way. 
At  the  first  camp,  after  he  left,  we  heard  a  loud 


Cornel 


Ground  Juniper,  Juniperus  sabina 


"plong"  in  the  water  near  the  boat.  Bezkya  glided 
to  the  spot;  I  followed — here  was  a  large  Beaver 
swimming.  The  Indian  fired,  the  Beaver  plunged, 
and  we  saw  nothing  more  of  it.  He  told  Billy,  who 
told  me,  that  it  was  dead,  because  it  did  not  slap  with 


ON  THE  NYARLING 


L39 


Its  tail  as  it  went  down.    Next  night  another  splashed 
by  our  boat. 

This  morning  as  we  paddled  we  saw  a  little  stream, 
very  muddy,  trickling  into  the  river.  Bezkya  said, 
"Beaver  at  work  on  his 
dam  there."  Now  that  we 
were  really  heading  for 
flour,  our  Indian  showed 
up  well.  He  was  a  strong 
paddler,  silent  but  appar- 
ently cheerful,  ready  at  all 
times  to  work.  As  a  hunter 
and  guide  he  was  of  course 
first  class. 

About  10.30  we  came  on 
a  large  Beaver  sunning  him- 
self on  a  perch  built  of  mud 
just  above  the  water.  He 
looked  like  a  huge  chest- 
nut Muskrat.  He  plunged 
at  once  but  came  up  again 
30  yards  farther  down, 
took  another  look,  and  dived,  to  be  seen  no  more. 

At  noun  we  reached  our  old  camp,  the  last  where  all 
had  been  together.  Here  we  put  up  a  monument  on 
a  tree,  and  were  mortified  to  think  we  had  not  done  so 
at  our  farthest  camp. 

There  were  numbers  of  Ycllowlegs  breeding  here: 
we  were  surprised  to  see  them  resting  on  trees  or  flying 
from  one  branch  to  another. 

A  Great  Gray-owl  sitting  on  a  stump  was  a  con- 


Ledurn  groenlandicum 


140 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


spicuous  feature  of  our  landscape  view;    his  white 
choker  shone  like  a  parson's. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  saw  a  Kingbird.  This  was 
our  northernmost  record  for  the  species. 

We  pressed  on  all  day,  stopping  only  for  our  usual 
supper  of  Moose  and  tea,  and  about  7  the  boys  were 

ready  to  go  on  again.  They 
paddled  till  dark  at  10.  Camped 
in  the  rain,  but  every  one  was 
well  pleased,  for  we  had  made 
40  miles  that  day  and  were 
that  much  nearer  to  flour. 

This  journey  had  brought 
us  down  the  Nyarling  and  15 
miles  down  the  Buffalo. 

It  rained  all  night;  next 
morning  the  sun  came  out  once 
or  twice  but  gave  it  up,  and 
clouds  with  rain  sprinklings 
kept  on.  We  had  struck  a 
long  spell  of  wet;  it  was  very  trying,  and  fatal  to 
photographic  work. 

After  a  delicious,  appetising,  and  inspiring  breakfast 
of  straight  Moose,  without  even  salt,  and  raw  tea,  we 
pushed  on  along  the  line  of  least  resistance,  i.e.,  tow- 
ard flour. 

A  flock  of  half  a  dozen  Bohemian  Waxwings  were 

seen  catching  flies  among  the  tall  spruce  tops;  probably 

all  were  males  enjoying  a  stag  party  while  their  wives 

were  home  tending  eggs  or  young. 

Billy  shot  a  female  Bufflehead  Duck;  she  was  so 


Two  Robins  chasing  a  Red- 
tail  from  its  own  nest. 
July  12,  1907 


ON  THE  NYARLING  141 

small — only  8  inches  in  slack  girth — that  she  could 
easily  have  entered  an  ordinary  Woodpecker  hole.  So 
that  it  is  likely  the  species  nest  in  the  abandoned  holes 
of  the  Flicker.  A  Redtailed  Hawk  had  its  nest  on  a 
leaning  spruce  above  the  water.  It  was  a  most  strik- 
ing and  picturesque  object;  doubtless  the  owner  was 
very  well  pleased  with  it,  but  a  pair  of  Robins  militant 
attacked  him  whenever  he  tried  to  go  near  it. 

A  Beaver  appeared  swimming  ahead;  Bezkya  seized 
his  rifle  and  removed  the  top  of  its  head,  thereby  spoil- 


A  windlass  al  the  mouth  of  Little 
Buffalo  River.    July  12,  1907 

ing  a  splendid  skull  but  securing  a  pelt  and  a  new 
kind  of  meat.  Although  I  was  now  paying  his  wages, 
the  Beaver  did  not  belong  to  me.  According  to  the 
custom  of  the  country  it  belonged  to  Bezkya.  He 
owed  me  nothing  but  service  as  a  guide.  Next  meal 
we  had  Beaver  tail  roasted  and  boiled;  it  was  very 
delicious,  but  rather  rich  and  heavy. 

At  3.45  we  reached  Gnat  Slave  Lake,  but  found  the 
sea  so  high  that  it  would  have  been  very  dangerous  to 
attempt  crossing  to  Fort  Resolution,  faintly  to  be  seen 
a  dozen  miles  away. 

We  waited  till  7,  then  ventured  forth;  it  was  only 
11  miles  across  and  we  could  send  that  canoe  at  5£ 


142 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


miles  an  hour,  but  the  wind  and  waves  against  us  were 
so  strong  that  it  took  3J  hours  to  make  the  passage. 
At  10.30  we  landed  at  Resolution  and  pitched  our 
tent  among  30  teepees  with  200  huge  dogs  that  barked, 
scratched,  howled,  yelled,  and  fought  around,  in,  and 
over  the  tent-ropes  all  night  long.  Oh,  how  different 
from  the  tranquil  woods  of  the  Nyarling! 


Birch  bark 
wavey  quill  rim 


Pierre's  water  bucket, 
10  in.  high 


Birch  bark  pail 
spruce  root  wrapping 


Athabaska  Rose 


CHAPTER  XXI 

FORT  RESOLUTION  AND  ITS  FOLK 

Early  next  morning  Preble  called  on  his  old  acquaint- 
ance, Chief  Trader  C.  Harding,  in  charge  of  the  post. 
Whenever  we  have  gone  to  H.  B.  Co.  officials  to  do 
business  with  them,  as  officers  of  the  company,  we 
have  found  them  the  keenest  of  the  keen;  but  when- 
ever it  is  their  personal  affair,  they  are  hospitality 
out-hospitalled.  They  give  without  stint;  they  lavish 
their  kindness  on  the  stranger  from  the  big  world. 
In  a  few  minutes  Preble  hastened  back  to  say  that  we 
were  to  go  to  breakfast  at  once. 

That  breakfast,  presided  over  by  a  charming  woman 
and  a  genial,  generous  man,  was  one  that  will  not  be 
forgotten  while  I  live.  Think  of  it,  after  the  hard 
scrabble  on  the  Nyarling!  We  had  real  porridge  and 
cream,  coffee  with  veritable  sugar  and  milk,  and  au- 
thentic butter,  light  rolls  made  of  actual  flour,  un- 
questionable bacon  and  potatoes,  with  jam  and  toast 
— the  really,  truly  things — and  we  had  as  much  as 
we  could  cat!  We  behaved  rather  badly — intemper- 
ately,  I  fear — we  stopped  only  when  forced  to  do  it, 
and  yet  both  of  us  came  away  with  appetites. 

It  was  clear  that  I  must  get  some  larger  craft  than 
my  canoe  to  cross  the  lake  from  Fort  Resolution  and 
take  the  1,300  pounds  of  provisions  that  had  come  on 
the  steamer.    Harding  kindly  offered  the  loan  of  a 

143 


144  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

York  boat,  and  with  the  help  chiefly  of  Charlie  McLeod 
the  white  man,  who  is  interpreter  at  the  fort,  I  secured 
a  crew  to  man  it.  But  oh,  what  worry  and  annoy- 
ance it  was!  These  Great  Slave  Lake  Indians  are 
like  a  lot  of  spoiled  and  petulant  children,  with  the 
added  weakness  of  adult  criminals;  they  are  inconsist- 
ent, shiftless,  and  tricky.  Pike,  Whitney,  Buffalo  Jones, 
and  others  united  many  years  ago  in  denouncing  them 
as  the  most  worthless  and  contemptible  of  the  human 
race,  and  since  then  they  have  considerably  deterio- 
rated. There  are  exceptions,  however,  as  will  be  seen 
by  the  record. 

One  difficulty  was  that  it  became  known  that  on  the 
Buffalo  expedition  Bezkya  had  received  three  dollars 
a  day,  which  is  government  emergency  pay.  I  had 
agreed  to  pay  the  regular  maximum,  two  dollars  a 
day  with  presents  and  keep.  All  came  and  demanded 
three  dollars.  I  told  them  they  could  go  at  once  in 
search  of  the  hottest  place  ever  pictured  by  a  diseased 
and  perfervid  human  imagination. 

If  they  went  there  they  decided  not  to  stay,  because 
in  an  hour  they  were  back  offering  to  compromise.  I 
said  I  could  run  back  to  Fort  Smith  (it  sounds  like 
nothing)  and  get  all  the  men  I  needed  at  one  dollar 
and  a  half.  (I  should  mortally  have  hated  to  try.) 
One  by  one  the  crew  resumed.  Then  another  bomb- 
shell. I  had  offended  Chief  Snuff  by  not  calling  and 
consulting  with  him;  he  now  gave  it  out  that  I  was 
here  to  take  out  live  Musk-ox,  which  meant  that  all 
the  rest  would  follow  to  seek  their  lost  relatives. 
Again  my  crew  resigned.    I  went  to  see  Snuff.    Every 


Sunset  on  Slave-  River 


Fori    Resolution 


FORT  RESOLUTION  AND  ITS  FOLK    145 

man  has  his  price.  Snuffs  price  was  half  a  pound  of 
tea;  and  the  crew  came  back,  bringing,  however, 
several  new  modifications  in  our  contract. 

Taking  no  account  of  several  individuals  that  joined 
a  number  of  times  but  finally  resigned,  the  following, 
after  they  had  received  presents,  provisions,  and  ad- 
vance pay,  were  the  crew  secured  to  man  the  York  boat 
on  the  "3  or  4"  days'  run  to  Pike's  Portage  and  then 
carry  my  goods  to  the  first  lake. 

Weeso.  The  Jesuits  called  him  Louison  d'Noire, 
but  it  has  been  corrupted  into  a  simpler  form.  "  Wee- 
so"  they  call  it,  ''Weeso"  they  write  it,  and  for 
u  Weeso"  you  must  ask,  or  you  will  not  find  him.  So 
I  write  it  as  I  do  "Sousi"  and  "Yum,"  with  the  true 
local  colour. 

He  was  a  nice,  kind,  simple  old  rabbit,  not  much 
use  and  not  over-strong,  but  he  did  his  best,  never 
murmuring,  and  in  all  the  mutinies  and  rebellions  that 
followed  he  remained  staunch,  saying  simply,  "I  gave 
my  word  I  would  go,  and  I  will  go."  He  would  make 
a  safe  guide  for  the  next  part)'  headed  for  Aylmer  Lake, 
lie  alone  did  not  ask  rations  for  his  wife  during  his 
absence;  he  said,  "It  didn't  matter  about  her,  as  they 
bad  been  married  for  a  long  time  now."  He  asked  as 
presents  a  pair  of  my  spectacles,  as  his  eyes  were  fail- 
ing, and  a  marble  axe.  The  latter  I  sent  him  later, 
but  he  could  not  understand  why  glasses  that  helped 
me  should  not  help  him.  He  acted  as  pilot  and  guide, 
knowing  next  to  nothing  about  either. 

Francois  d'Noire,  son  <<f  Weeso,  a  quiet,  steady,  in- 
offensive chap,  but  not  strong;  nevertheless,  having 


146  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

been  there  once  with  us,  he  is  now  a  competent  guide 
to  take  any  other  party  as  far  as  Pike's  Portage. 

C,  a  sulky  brute  and  a  mischief-maker.  He  joined 
and  resigned  a  dozen  times  that  day,  coming  back  on 
each  occasion  with  a  new  demand. 

S.,  grandson  of  the  chief,  a  sulky  good-for-noth- 
ing; would  not  have  him  again  at  any  price;  besides 
the  usual  wages,  tobacco,  food,  etc.,  he  demanded  extra 
to  support  his  wife  during  his  absence.  The  wife,  I 
found,  was  a  myth. 

T.,  a  sulky  good-for-nothing. 

Beaulieu,  an  alleged  grandson  of  his  grandfather. 
A  perpetual  breeder  of  trouble;  never  did  a  decent 
day's  work  the  whole  trip.  Insolent,  mutinous,  and 
overbearing,  till  I  went  for  him  with  intent  to  do  bodily 
mischief;  then  he  became  extremely  obsequious.  Like 
the  rest  of  the  foregoing,  he  resigned  and  resumed  at 
irregular  intervals. 

Yum  (William)  Freesay;  the  best  of  the  lot;  a 
bright,  cheerful,  intelligent,  strong  Indian  boy.  He 
and  my  old  standby,  Billy  Loutit,  did  virtually  all  the 
handling  of  that  big  boat.  Any  one  travelling  in  that 
country  should  secure  Yum  if  they  can.  He  was 
worth  all  the  others  put  together. 


Bess-hath  or  crooked  knife.     10£  in.  long. 

Property  of  Weeso.    Made  of  a  file. 

July  16,  1907 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  CIIIPEWYAXS,  THEIR  SPEECH  AND  WRITING 

Sweeping  generalisations  are  always  misleading,  there- 
fore I  offer  some  now,  and  later  will  correct  them  by 
specific  instances. 

These  Chipewyans  are  dirty,  shiftless,  improvident, 
and  absolutely  honest.  Of  the  last  we  saw  daily  in- 
stances in  crossing  the  country.  Valuables  hung  in 
trees,  protected  only  from  weather,  birds,  and  beasts, 
but  never  a  suggestion  that  they  needed  protection 
from  mankind.  They  are  kind  and  hospitable  among 
themselves,  but  grasping  in  their  dealings  with  white 
men,  as  already  set  forth.  While  they  are  shiftless 
and  lazy,  they  also  undertake  the  frightful  toil  of  hunt- 
ing and  portaging.  Although  improvident,  they  have 
learned  to  dry  a  stock  of  meat  and  put  up  a  scaffold 
of  white  fish  for  winter  use.  As  a  tribe  they  are  mild 
and  inoffensive,  although  they  are  the  original  stock 
from  which  the  Apaches  broke  away  some  hundreds 
of  years  ago  before  settling  in  the  south. 

They  have  suffered  greatly  from  diseases  imported 
by  white  men,  but  not  from  whiskey.  The  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  has  always  refused  to  supply  liquor  to 
the  natives.  What  little  of  the  evil  traffic  there  has 
been  was  tho  work  of  free-traders.  But  the  Royal 
Mounted  Police  have  most  rigorously  and  effectually 

147 


148  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

suppressed  this.  Nevertheless,  Chief  Trader  Anderson 
tells  me  that  the  Mackenzie  Valley  tribes  have  fallen 
to  less  than  half  their  numbers  during  the  last  century. 

It  is  about  ten  years  since  they  made  the  treaty 
that  surrendered  their  lands  to  the  government.  They 
have  no  reserves,  but  are  free  to  hunt  as  their  fathers 
did. 

I  found  several  of  the  older  men  lamenting  the 
degeneracy  of  their  people.  "Our  fathers  were  hunt- 
ers and  our  mothers  made  good  moccasins,  but  the 
young  men  are  lazy  loafers  around  the  trading  posts, 
and  the  women  get  money  in  bad  ways  to  buy  what 
they  should  make  with  their  hands." 

The  Chipewyan  dialects  are  peculiarly  rasping,  click- 
ing, and  guttural,  especially  when  compared  with  Cree. 

Every  man  and  woman  and  most  of  the  children 
among  them  smoke.  They  habitually  appear  with  a 
pipe  in  their  mouth  and  speak  without  removing  it, 
so  that  the  words  gurgle  out  on  each  side  of  the  pipe 
while  a  thin  stream  goes  sizzling  through  the  stem. 
This  additional  variant  makes  it  hopeless  to  suggest  on 
paper  any  approach  to  their  peculiar  speech. 

The  Jesuits  tell  me  that  it  was  more  clicked  and 
guttural  fifty  years  ago,  but  that  they  are  successfully 
weeding  out  many  of  the  more  unpleasant  catarrhal 
sounds. 

In  noting  down  the  names  of  animals,  I  was  struck 
by  the  fact  that  the  more  familiar  the  animal  the 
shorter  its  name.  Thus  the  Beaver,  Muskrat,  Rabbit, 
and  Marten,  on  which  they  live,  are  respectively  Tsa, 
Dthen,  Ka,  and  Tha.    The  less  familiar  (in  a  daily 


THE  CHIPEWYANS  149 

sense)  Red  Fox  and  Weasel  are  Nak-ee-they,  Noon- 
dee-a,  Tel-ky-lay;  and  the  comparatively  scarce  Musk- 
ox  and  little  Weasel,  At-huh-le-jrr-ray  and  Tel-ky- 
lay-azzy.  All  of  which  is  clear  and  logical,  for  the 
name  originally  is  a  description,  but  the  softer  parts  and 
sharp  angles  arc  worn  down  by  the  attrition  of  use — 


A.  Typical  tocpoc  of  Plains  Indians.  B.  Chipewyan  tccpcc  with  smoke 
Baps  of  a  separate  piece.  C.  Modern  Chipewyan  teepee  with  tent 
addition 

the  more  use  they  have  for  a  word  the  shorter  it  is 
bound  to  get.  In  this  connection  it  is  significant  that 
"to-day"  is  To-ho-chin-nay,  and  "to-morrow"  Kom- 
pay. 

The  Chipewyan  teepee  is  very  distinctive;  fifty  years 
ago  all  were  of  caribou  leather,  now  most  are  of  cotton; 
not  for  lack  of  caribou,  but  because  the  cotton  does 
not  need  continual  watching  to  save  it  from  the  dogs. 
Of  the  fifty  teepees  at  Fort  Chipewyan,  one  or  two 
only  were  of  caribou  but  many  had  caribou-skin  tops, 
as  these  are  less  likely  to  burn  than  those  of  cotton. 

The  way  they  manage  the  smoke  is  very  clever;  in- 
stead of  the  two  fixed  flaps,  as  among  the  Plains  River 
Indians,  these  have  a  separate  hood  which  is  easily 
set  on  any  side  (see  Til).  Chief  Squirrel  lives  in  a 
lodge  that  is  an  admirable  combination  of  the  white 


150  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

men's  tent  with  its  weather-proof  roof  and  the  Indian 
teepee  with  its  cosy  fire.    (See  cut,  p.  149.) 

Not  one  of  these  lodges  that  I  saw,  here  or  elsewhere, 
had  the  slightest  suggestion  of  decoration. 

For  people  who  spend  their  whole  life  on  or  near  the 
water  these  are  the  worst  boatmen  I  ever  saw.  The 
narrow,  thick  paddle  they  make,  compared  with  the 

broad,  thin   Iroquois 


paddle,  exactly  ex- 
pressed the  difference 

a.  Chipewyan  paddle,     b.  Iroquois  between    the    two    as 

canoemen.  The  Chip- 
ewyan's  mode  of  using  it  is  to  sit  near  the  middle  and 
make  2  or  perhaps  3  strokes  on  one  side,  then  change 
to  the  other  side  for  the  same,  and  so  on.  The  line 
made  by  the  canoes  is  an  endless  zigzag.  The  idea  of 
paddling  on  one  side  so  dexterously  that  the  canoe 
goes  straight  is  yet  on  an  evolutionary  pinnacle  be- 
yond their  present  horizon. 

In  rowing,  their  way  is  to  stand  up,  reach  forward 
with  the  30-pound  16J-foot  oar,  throw  all  the  weight 
on  it,  falling  backward  into  the  seat.  After  half  an 
hour  of  this  exhausting  work  they  must  rest  15  to  20 
minutes.  The  long,  steady,  strong  pull  is  unknown 
to  them  in  every  sense. 

Their  ideas  of  sailing  a  boat  are  childish.  Tacking 
is  like  washing,  merely  a  dim  possibility  of  their  very 
distant  future.  It's  a  sailing  wind  if  behind;  other- 
wise it's  a  case  of  furl  and  row. 

By  an  ancient,  unwritten  law  the  whole  country  is 
roughly  divided  among  the  hunters.    Each  has  his 


THE  CIIIPEWYANS 


151 


own  recognised  huntLg  ground,  usually  a  given  river 
valley,  that  is  his  exclusive  and  hereditary  property; 
another  hunter  may  follow  a  wounded  animal  into  it, 
but  not  begin  a  hunt  there  or  set  a  trap  upon  it. 


Chipewyan  canoe,  Smith  Landing 

Most  of  their  time  is  spent  at  the  village,  but  the 
hunting  ground  is  visited  at  proper  seasons. 

Fifty  years  ago  they  commonly  went  half  naked. 
How  they  stood  the  insects  I  do  not  know,  and  when 
asked  they  merely  grinned  significantly;  probably 
they  doped  themselves  with  grease. 

This  religious  training  has  had  one  bad  effect.  In- 
spired with  horror  of  being  " naked"  savages,  they  do 
not  run  any  sinful  risks,  even  to  take  a  bath.     In  all 


Dogrib  canoe 

the  six  months  I  was  among  them  I  never  saw  an 
Indian's  bare  arms,  much  less  his  legs.  One  day  after 
the  fly  season  was  over  I  took  advantage  of  the  lovely 
weather  and  water  to  strip  off  and  jump  into  a  lake 
by  our  camp;  my  Indians  modestly  turned  their  backs 
until  I  had  finished. 


152  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

If  this  mock  modesty  worked  for  morality  one  might 
well  accept  it,  but  the  old  folks  say  that  it  operates 
quite  the  other  way.  It  has  at  all  events  put  an  end 
to  any  possibility  of  them  taking  a  bath. 

Maybe  as  a  consequence,  but  of  this  I  am  not  sure, 
none  of  these  Indians  swim.  A  large  canoe-load  upset 
in  crossing  Great  Slave  Lake  a  month  after  we  arrived 
and  all  were  drowned. 

Like  most  men  wTho  lead  physical  lives,  and  like  all 
meat-eating  savages,  these  are  possessed  of  a  natural 
proneness  toward  strong  drink. 

An  interesting  two-edged  boomerang  illustration  of 
this  was  given  by  an  unscrupulous  whiskey  trader. 
While  travelling  across  country  he  ran  short  of  pro- 
visions but  fortunately  came  to  a  Chipewyan  lodge. 
At  first  its  owner  had  no  meat  to  spare,  but  when  he 
found  that  the  visitor  had  a  flask  of  whiskey  he  offered 
for  it  a  large  piece  of  Moose  meat;  when  this  was  re- 
fused he  doubled  the  amount,  and  after  another  refusal 
added  some  valuable  furs  and  more  meat  till  one  hun- 
dred dollars  worth  was  piled  up. 

Again  the  answer  was  "no." 

Then  did  that  Indian  offer  the  lodge  and  everything 
he  had  in  it,  including  his  wife.  But  the  trader  was 
obdurate. 

"Why  didn't  you  take  it,"  said  the  friend  whom  he 
told  of  the  affair;  "the  stuff  would  have  netted  five 
hundred  dollars,  and  all  for  one  flask  of  whiskey." 

"Not  much,"  said  the  trader,  "it  was  my  last  flask. 
I  wouldn't  'a'  had  a  drop  for  myself.  But  it  just  shows 
how  fond  these  Indians  are  of  whiskey." 


THE  CHIPEWYANS  L53 

While  some  of  the  Chipewyans  sliow  fine  physique, 
and  man)r  do  great  feats  of  strength  and  endurance, 
they  seem  on  the  whole  inferior  to  whites. 

Thus  the  strongest  portager  on  the  river  is  said  to  be 
Billy  Lout  it's  brother  George.  At  Athabaska  Land- 
ing I  was  shown  a  house  on  a  hill,  half  a  mile  away,  to 
which  he  had  carried  on  his  back  450  pounds  of  flour 
without  stopping.  Some  said  it  was  only  350  pounds, 
but  none  made  it  less.  As  George  is  only  three-quar- 
ters white,  this  is  perhaps  not  a  case  in  point.  But  dur- 
ing our  stay  at  Fort  Smith  we  had  several  athletic 
meets  of  Indians  and  whites,  the  latter  represented  by 
Preble  and  the  police  boys,  and  no  matter  whether 
in  running,  walking,  high  jumping,  broad  jumping, 
wrestling,  or  boxing,  the  whites  were  ahead. 

As  rifle-shots,  also,  the  natives  seem  far  inferior. 
In  the  matter  of  moose-hunting  only,  as  already  noted, 
the  red-man  was  master.  This,  of  course,  is  a  matter 
of  life-long  training.  A  white  man  brought  up  to  it 
would  probably  do  as  well  as  an  Indian  even  in  this 
very  Indian  department. 

These  tribes  are  still  in  the  hunting  and  fishing  stage; 
they  make  no  pretence  of  agriculture  or  stock-raising. 
Except  that  the)'  wear  white  man's  clothes  and  are 
most  of  them  nominally  Roman  Catholics,  they  live 
as  their  fathers  did  100  years  ago.  But  there  is  one 
remarkable  circumstance  that  impressed  me  more  and 
more — practically  every  Chipewyan  reads  and  writes 
his  own  language. 

This  miracle  was  inborn  on  me  slowly.  On  the  first 
Buffalo  hunt  we  had  found  a  smoothened  pole  stuck  in 


154  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

the  ground  by  the  trail.  It  was  inscribed  as  here- 
with. 

"What  is  that  Sousi?"  "It's  a  notice  from  Chief 
William  that  Swiggert  wants  men  on  the  portage," 
and  he  translated  it  literally:  "The  fat  white  man 
5  scows,  small  white  man  2  scows,  gone  down,  men 
wanted  for  Rapids,  Johnnie  Bolette  this  letter  for  you. 
(Signed)  Chief  William." 

Each  of  our  guides  in  succession  had  shown  a  simi- 
lar familiarity  with  the  script  of  his  people,  and  many 


Si-m»/    WJSc~>  7«* ««*»».«*  tS£ow>.q«nt<t»n, 

Chipewyan  inscription  with  interpretation 

times  we  found  spideresque  characters  on  tree  or  stone 
that  supplied  valuable  information.  They  could,  how- 
ever, tell  me  nothing  of  its  age  or  origin,  simply  "We 
all  do  it;  it  is  easy." 

At  Fort  Resolution  I  met  the  Jesuit  fathers  and  got 
the  desired  chance  of  learning  about  the  Chipewyan 
script. 

First,  it  is  not  a  true  alphabet,  but  a  syllabic;  not 
letters,  but  syllables,  are  indicated  by  each  character; 
73  characters  are  all  that  are  needed  to  express  the 
whole  language.  It  is  so  simple  and  stenographic  that 
the  fathers  often  use  it  as  a  rapid  way  of  writing 
French.  It  has,  however,  the  disadvantage  of  am- 
biguity at  times.  Any  Indian  boy  can  learn  it  in  a 
week  or  two;  practically  all  the  Indians  use  it.  What 
a  commentary  on  our  own  cumbrous  and  illogical  spell- 


THE  CfflPEWYANS  155 

ing,  which  takes  even  a  bright  child  two  or  three  years 
bo  learn! 

Now,  I  already  knew  something  of  the  Crce  syllabic 
invented  by  the  Rev.  James  Evans,  Methodist  mis- 
sionary on  Lake  Winnipeg  in  the  '40s,  but  Cree  is  a 


<  a 

V  e 

A  i 

>  o 

"  TKA 

<Tao 

V'  en 

A* in 

£>'  on 

•  Ed- 

<  ba 

V  be 

A  bi 

>  bo 

'  S'i-» 

C  da 

U  de 

Hdi 

3  do 

'UTJd> 

b  ka 

q  ke 

P  ki 

d  ko 

'TJS% 

d  la 

\|  le 

Jl» 

bio 

ecbV 

|_  ma 

~~\  me 

r  ml 

_J  mo 

»    L'!-* 

Q.  na 

TJ  ne 

0*  "• 

U    DO 

♦  V>Q> 

\i  ra 

'V  re 

^  ri 

J-  ro 

A   ^nfl. 

•->  sa 

*-,  se 

r>  si 

/-•  so 

'  0">S'f-' 

>y* 

^  ye 

^  yf 

^  yo 

•  ><HO 

<5  za 

*9  ze 

Gl  z» 

G>  zo 

,  ^^^ 

£  cha 

UU  che 

m  chi 

3  cho 

h  >U'& 

L»  dha 

O  dhe 

P  dhi 

U  dho 

e  <^<c 

'Otha 

'H  the 

'P  thi 

'U  tho 

o  VG0 

C  tta 

U' tte 

O'tti 

D'tto 

'  *V'V'U> 

G  ttha 

U  "he 

n  tthi 

D  ttho 

••<jo 

G  f=a 

o  t^ 

Q  tei 

D  ?o 

1 

>s(c<> 

Chipewyan  s 

yllabic  alphabet 

much  less  complex  language;  only  36  characters  are 
Deeded,  and  these  are  so  simple  that  an  intelligent  Cree 
can  learn  to  write  his  own  language  in  one  day. 

In  support  of  this  astounding  statement  I  give,  first, 
the  36  characters  which  cover  every  fundamental  sound 
in  their  language  and  then  a  sample  of  application. 
While  crude  and  inconcise,  it  was  so  logical  and  simple 


156 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


that  in  a  few  years  the  missionary  had  taught  practi- 
cally the  whole  Cree  nation  to  read  and  write.    And 


SYLLABARIUM 


mm 

A 

E 

0 

A            | 

FINALS 

V 

A 

0 

0 

o    w 

p  v 

A 

> 

< 

1       P 

T   U 

n 

D 

c 

X     T 

K    P 

p 

d 

b 

N      K 

cn  n 

n 

U 

u 

-      CK 

m  n 

r 

J 

L 

C      M 

N  "D 

0" 

D 

a 

D      N 

s  S 

h 

H 

s 

n    s 

-h 

r^ 

5T» 

h. 

A  dot  gives  a  "w"  sound 

EXAMPLES. 

atokwa    VD^'    pimatisiw     ALHr^o 

maskanaw     ~"lnb>Q_°     astumitik    <K»CT 

f^    makwach    ~lt>'~    ustootin    <3nDnD 

pimachehewam    ALPAV'C  kakwi    qt=>: 

The  syllabic  alphabet  of  the  Cree  language 

Lord  Dufferin,  when  the  matter  came  before  him  dur- 
ing his  north-west  tour,  said  enthusiastically:  " There 
have  been  men  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey  with 
national  honours  whose  claims  to  fame  were  far  less 


THE  CHIPEWYANS  157 

than  those  of  this  devoted  missionary,  the  man  who 
taught  a  whole  nation  to  read  and  write." 

These  things  I  knew,  and  now  followed  up  my 
Jesuit  source  of  information. 

"Who  invented  this?" 

"I  don't  know  for  sure.    It  is  in  general  use." 

''Was  it  a  native  idea?" 

"Oh,  no;  some  white  man  made  it." 

"Where?    Here  or  in  the  south?" 

"It  came  originally  from  the  Crees,  as  near  as  we 
can  tell." 

"Was  it  a  Cree  or  a  missionary  that  first  thought 
of  it?" 

"I  believe  it  was  a  missionary." 

"Frankly,  now,  wasn't  it  invented  in  1840  by  Rev. 
James  Evans,  Methodist  missionary  to  the  Crees  on 
Lake  Winnipeg?" 

Oh,  how  he  hated  to  admit  it,  but  he  was  too  honest 
to  deny  it. 

"Yes,  it  seems  to  me  it  was  some  name  like  that. 
'Je  ne  sais  pas.'" 

Reader,  take  a  map  of  North  America,  a  large  one, 
and  mark  off  the  vast  area  bounded  by  the  Saskatche- 
wan, the  Rockies,  the  Hudson  Bay,  and  the  Arctic  circle, 
and  realise  that  in  this  region,  as  lar<2;c  as  continental 
Europe  outside  of  Russia  and  Spain,  one  simple,  earnest 
man,  inspired  by  the  love  of  Him  who  alone  is  perfect 
love,  invented  and  popularised  a  method  of  writing 
that  in  a  few  years — in  less  than  a  generation,  indeed — 
has  turned  the  whole  native  population  from  ignorant 
illiterates  to  a  people  who  arc  proud  to  read  and  write 


158  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

their  own  language.  This,  I  take  it,  is  one  of  the  great- 
est feats  of  a  civiliser.  The  world  has  not  yet  heard  of, 
much  less  comprehended,  the  magnitude  of  the  achieve- 
ment ;  when  it  does  there  will  be  no  name  on  the  Can- 
adian roll  of  fame  that  will  stand  higher  or  be  blazoned 
more  brightly  than  that  of  James  Evans  the  missionary. 

«  A  4*  *  4 


7  0*  »> 


i 


$ 


\ 


(1)  Tinne.  (2)  Peter  Squirrel.  (3)  Tsa 
or  Beaver.  (4)  Sass  or  Bear.  (5) 
Den-nee  or  Moose.  (6)  Et-then  or 
Deer 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   DOGS  OF  FORT  RESOLUTION 

It  sounds  like  the  opening  of  an  epic  poem  but  it 
is  not. 

The  Chipcwyan  calender  is  divided  in  two  seasons — 
dog  season  and  canoe  season.  What  the  horse  is  to 
the  Arab,  what  the  Reindeer  is  to  the  Lap  and  the  Yak 
to  the  Thibetan,  the  dog  is  to  the  Chipewyan  for  at 
least  one-half  of  the  year,  until  it  is  displaced  by  the 
canoe. 

During  dog  season  the  canoes  are  piled  away  some- 
what carelessly  or  guarded  only  from  the  sun.  During 
canoe  season  the  dogs  are  treated  atrociously.  Let 
us  remember,  first,  that  these  are  dogs  in  every  doggy 
sense,  the  worshipping  servants  of  man,  asking  noth- 
ing but  a  poor  living  in  return  for  abject  love  and  tire- 
less service,  as  well  as  the  relinquishment  of  all  family 
ties  and  natural  life.  In  winter,  because  they  cannot 
serve  without  good  food,  they  are  well  fed  on  fish  that 
is  hung  on  scaffolds  in  the  fall  in  time  to  be  frozen 
before  wholly  spoiled.  The  journeys  they  will  make 
and  the  devoted  service  they  render  at  this  time  is 
none  too  strongly  set  forth  in  Butler's  "Cerf  Vola" 
and  London's  "Call  of  the  Wild."  It  is,  indeed,  the 
dog  alone  that  makes  life  possible  during  the  white 
half-year  of  the  boreal  calender.     One  cannot  be  many 

159 


160  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

days  in  the  north  without  hearing  tales  of  dog  prowess, 
devotion,  and  heroism.  A  typical  incident  was  related 
as  follows  by  Thomas  Anderson : 

Over  thirty  years  ago,  Chief  Factor  George  McTavish 
and  his  driver,  Jack  Harvey,  were  travelling  from  East 
Main  to  Rupert's  House  (65  miles)  in  a  blizzard  so 
thick  and  fierce  that  they  could  scarcely  see  the  leading 
dog.  He  was  a  splendid,  vigorous  creature,  but  all  at 
once  he  lay  down  and  refused  to  go.  The  driver  struck 
him,  but  the  factor  reproved  the  man,  as  this  dog  had 
never  needed  the  whip.  The  driver  then  went  ahead 
and  found  open  water  only  a  few  feet  from  the  dogs, 
though  out  of  sight.  After  that  they  gave  the  leader 
free  rein,  surrendered  themselves  to  his  guidance,  and 
in  spite  of  the  blinding  blizzard  they  struck  the  flag- 
pole of  Rupert's  between  11  and  12  that  night,  only  a 
little  behind  time. 

Many  of  the  wild  Wolf  traits  still  remain  with  them. 
They  commonly  pair;  they  bury  surplus  food;  the 
mothers  disgorge  food  for  the  young;  they  rally  to 
defend  one  of  their  own  clan  against  a  stranger;  and 
they  punish  failure  with  death. 

A  thousand  incidents  might  be  adduced  to  show 
that  in  the  north  there  is  little  possibility  of  winter 
travel  without  dogs  and  little  possibility  of  life  with- 
out winter  travel. 

But  April  comes  with  melting  snows  and  May  with 
open  rivers  and  brown  earth  everywhere;  then,  in- 
deed, the  reign  of  the  dog  is  over.  The  long  yellow- 
birch  canoe  is  taken  down  from  the  shanty  roof  or  from 
a  sheltered  scaffold,  stitched,  gummed,  and  launched; 


Till':   DOGS  OF  FORT  RESOLUTION     nil 

and  the  dogs  are  turned  loose  to  fend  for  themselves. 
Gratitude  for  past  services  or  future  does  not  enter 
into  the  owner's  thoughts  to  secure  a  fair  allowance  of 
food.  All  their  training  and  instinct  prompts  them  to 
hang  about  camp,  where,  kicked,  stoned,  beaten,  and 
starved,  they  steal  and  hunt  as  best  they  may,  until 
the  sad  season  of  summer  is  worn  away  and  merry 
winter  with  its  toil  and  good  food  is  back  once  more. 

From  leaving  Fort  MacMurray  we  saw  daily  the 
starving  dog,  and  I  fed  them  when  I  could.  At  Smith 
Landing  the  daily  dog  became  a  daily  fifty.  One  big 
fellow  annexed  us.  "I  found  them  first,"  he  seemed 
to  sa}r,  and  no  other  dog  came  about  our  camp  without 
a  fight. 

Of  course  he  fared  well  on  our  scraps,  but  many  a 
time  it  made  my  heart  ache  and  my  food-store  suffer 
to  see  the  gaunt  skeletons  in  the  bushes,  just  beyond 
his  sphere  of  influence,  watching  for  a  chance  to  rush 
in  and  secure  a  mouthful  of — anything  to  stay  the 
devastating  pang.  My  journal  of  the  time  sets  forth 
in  full  detail  the  diversity  of  their  diet,  not  only  every 
possible  scrap  of  fish  and  meat  or  whatsoever  smelled 
of  fish  or  meat,  but  rawhide,  leather,  old  boots,  flour- 
bags,  potato-peelings,  soap,  wooden  fragments  of  meat- 
boxes,  rags  that  have  had  enough  animal  contact  to 
be  odorous.  An  ancient  dish-cloth,  succulent  with  ac- 
tive service,  was  considered  a  treat  to  be  bolted  whole; 
and  when  in  due  course  the  cloth  was  returned  to 
earth,  it  was  intact,  bleached,  purged,  and  purified  as 
by  chemic  fires  and  ready  for  a  new  round  of  benev- 
olences. 


162  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

In  some  seasons  the  dogs  catch  Rabbits  enough  to 
keep  them  up.  But  this  year  the  Rabbits  were  gone. 
They  are  very  clever  at  robbing  fish-nets  at  times, 
but  these  were  far  from  the  fort.  Reduced  to  such 
desperate  straits  for  food,  what  wonder  that  canni- 
balism should  be  common!  Not  only  the  dead,  but  the 
sick  or  disabled  of  their  own  kind  are  torn  to  pieces  and 
devoured.  I  was  told  of  one  case  where  a  brutal  driver 
disabled  one  of  his  dogs  with  heavy  blows ;  its  compan- 
ions did  not  wait  till  it  was  dead  before  they  feasted. 
It  is  hard  to  raise  pups  because  the  mothers  so  often 
devour  their  own  young;  and  this  is  a  charge  I  never 
heard  laid  to  the  Wolf,  the  ancestor  of  these  dogs, 
which  shows  how  sadly  the  creature  has  been  de- 
teriorated by  contact  with  man.  There  seems  no 
length  to  which  they  will  not  go  for  food.  Politeness 
forbids  my  mentioning  the  final  diet  for  which  they 
scramble  around  the  camp.  Never  in  my  life  before 
have  I  seen  such  utter  degradation  by  the  power  of 
the  endless  hunger  pinch.  Nevertheless — and  here  I 
expect  the  reader  to  doubt,  even  as  I  did  when  first  I 
heard  it,  no  matter  how  desperate  their  straits — these 
gormandisers  of  unmentionable  filth,  these  starvelings, 
in  their  dire  extremity  will  turn  away  in  disgust  from 
duck  or  any  other  web-footed  water-fowl. 

Billy  Loutit  had  shot  a  Pelican;  the  skin  was  care- 
fully preserved  and  the  body  guarded  for  the  dogs, 
thinking  that  this  big  thing,  weighing  6  or  7  pounds, 
would  furnish  a  feast  for  one  or  two.  The  dogs  knew 
me,  and  rushed  like  a  pack  of  Wolves  at  sight  of  com- 
ing food.    The  bigger  ones  fought  back  the  smaller. 


THE  DOGS  OF  FORT  RESOLUTION     163 

I  threw  the  prize,  but,  famished  though  they  were, 
they  tinned  away  as  a  man  might  turn  from  a  roasted 
human  hand.  One  miserable  creature,  a  mere  skele- 
ton, sneaked  forward  when  the  stronger  ones  were 
-one,  pulled  out  tin'  entrails  at  last,  and  devoured  them 

though  he  hated  them. 

I  can  offer  no  explanation.  But  the  Hudson's  Bay 
men  fell  me  it  is  always  so,  and  I  am  afraid  the  re- 
membrance of  the  reception  accorded  my  bounty  that 
day  hardened  my  heart  somewhat  in  the  days  that  fol- 
lowed. 

On  the  Nyarling  we  were  too  far  from  mankind  to 
be  bothered  with  dogs,  but  at  Fort  Resolution  we  re- 
entered their  country.  The  following  from  my  journal 
records  the  impression  after  our  enforced  three  days' 
stay: 

"Tuesday,  July  16, 1907. — Fine  day  for  the  first  time 
since  July  3.  At  last  we  pulled  out  of  Fort  Resolution 
(9.40  a.  m.).  I  never  was  so  thankful  to  leave  a  place 
where  every  one  was  kind.  I  think  the  maddest 
cynophile  would  find  a  cure  here.  It  is  the  worst 
dog-cursed  spot  I  ever  saw;  not  a  square  yard  but  is 
polluted  by  them;  no  article  can  be  left  on  the  ground 
but  will  be  carried  off,  torn  up,  or  defiled;  the  four 
corners  of  our  tent  have  become  regular  stopping 
places  for  the  countless  canines,  and  are  disfigured 
and  made  abominable,  so  that  after  our  escape  there 
will  be  needed  many  days  of  kindly  rain  for  their 
purification. 

"There  certainly  are  several  hundred  dogs  in  the  vil- 
lage; there  are  about  50  teepees  and  houses  with  5  to  15 


164  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

dogs  at  each,  and  25  each  at  the  mission  and  H.  B.  Co. 
In  a  short  walk,  about  200  yards,  I  passed  86  dogs. 

"There  is  not  an  hour  or  ten  minutes  of  day  or  night 
that  is  not  made  hideous  with  a  dog-fight  or  chorus  of 
yelps.  There  are  about  six  different  clans  of  dogs, 
divided  as  their  owners  are,  and  a  Dogrib  dog  entering 
the  Yellow-knife  or  Chipewyan  part  of  the  camp  is 
immediately  set  upon  by  all  the  residents.  Now  the 
clansmen  of  the  one  in  trouble  rush  to  the  rescue  and 
there  is  a  battle.  Indians  of  both  sides  join  in  with 
clubs  to  belabour  the  fighters,  and  the  yowling  and 
yelping  of  those  discomfited  is  painful  to  hear  for  long 
after  the  fight  is  over.  It  was  a  battle  like  this,  I  have 
been  told,  which  caused  the  original  split  of  the  tribe, 
one  part  of  which  went  south  to  become  the  Apaches 
of  Arizona.  The  scenes  go  on  all  day  and  all  night  in 
different  forms.  A  number  of  dogs  are  being  broken 
in  by  being  tied  up  to  stakes.  These  keep  up  a  heart- 
rending and  peculiar  crying,  beginning  with  a  short 
bark  which  melts  into  a  yowl  and  dies  away  in  a  nerve- 
racking  wail.  This  ceases  not  day  or  night,  and  half 
a  dozen  of  these  prisoners  are  within  a  stone's  throw 
of  our  camp. 

"The  favourite  place  for  the  clan  fights  seems  to  be 
among  the  guy-ropes  of  our  tent ;  at  least  half  a  dozen 
of  these  general  engagements  take  place  every  night 
while  we  try  to  sleep. 

"Everything  must  be  put  on  the  high  racks  eight  feet 
up  to  be  safe  from  them;  even  empty  tins  are  carried 
off,  boots,  hats,  soap,  etc.,  are  esteemed  most  toothsome 
morsels,  and  what  they  can  neither  eat,  carry  off,  nor 


THE   DOGS  OF   FORT   RESOLUTION     165 

destroy,  they  defile  with  elaborate  persistency  and  pre- 
cision." 

A  common  (rick  of  the  Indians  when  canoe  season 
arrives  is  to  put  all  the  family  and  one  or  two  of 
the  best  dogs  in  the  canoes,  then  push  away  from  the 
shore,  leaving  the  rest  behind.  Those  so  abandoned 
come  howling  after  the  canoes,  and  in  unmistakable 
pleadings  beg  the  heartless  owners  to  take  them  in. 
But  the  canoes  push  off  toward  the  open  sea,  aiming 
to  get  out  of  sight.  The  dogs  howl  sadly  on  the 
shore,  or  swim  after  them  till  exhausted,  then  drift 
back  to  the  nearest  land  to  begin  the  summer  of 
hardship. 

If  Rabbits  are  plentiful  they  get  along;  failing  these 
they  catch  mice  or  fish;  when  the  berry  season  comes 
they  eat  fruit;  the  weaker  ones  are  devoured  by  their 
brethren ;  and  when  the  autumn  arrives  their  insensate 
owners  generally  manage  to  come  back  and  pick  up 
the  survivors,  feeding  them  so  that  they  are  ready  for 
travel  when  dog-time  begins,  and  the  poor  faithful 
brutes,  bearing  no  grudge,  resume  at  once  the  service 
of  their  unfeeling  masters. 

All  through  our  voyage  up  Great  Slave  Lake  we 
daily  heard  the  sad  howling  of  abandoned  dogs,  and 
nightly,  we  had  to  take  steps  to  prevent  them  steal- 
ing our  food  and  leathers.  More  than  once  in  the  dim 
light,  I  was  awakened  by  a  rustle,  to  see  sneaking  from 
my  tent  the  gray,  wolfish  form  of  some  prowling  dog, 
and  the  resentment  I  felt  at  the  loss  inflicted, was  never 
more  than  to  make  me  shout  or  throw  a  pebble  at 
him. 


1GG  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

One  day,  as  we  voyaged  eastward  (July  23)  in  the 
Tal-thel-lay  narrows  of  Great  Slave  Lake,  we  met  5 
canoes  and  2  York  boats  of  Indians  going  west.  A 
few  hours  afterward  as  we  were  nooning  on  an  island 
(we  were  driven  to  the  islands  now)  there  came  a  long 
howling  from  the  rugged  main  shore,  a  mile  away  to 
the  east  of  us;  then  it  increased  to  a  chorus  of  wailing, 
and  we  knew  that  the  Indians  had  that  morning  aban- 
doned their  dogs  there.  The  wailing  continued,  then 
we  saw  a  tiny  black  speck  coming  from  the  far  shore. 
When  it  was  half-way  across  the  ice-cold  bay  we  could 
hear  the  gasps  of  a  tired  swimmer.  He  got  along  fairly, 
dodging  the  cakes  of  ice,  until  within  about  200  yards, 
when  his  course  was  barred  by  a  long,  thin,  drifting 
floe.  He  tried  to  climb  on  it,  but  was  too  weak,  then 
he  raised  his  voice  in  melancholy  howls  of  despair. 
I  could  not  get  to  him,  but  he  plucked  up  heart  at 
length,  and  feebly  paddling  went  around  till  he  found 
an  opening,  swam  through  and  came  on,  the  slow- 
est dog  swimmer  I  ever  saw.  At  last  he  struck  bot- 
tom and  crawled  out.  But  he  was  too  weak  and 
ill  to  eat  the  meat  that  I  had  ready  prepared  for 
him.  We  left  him  with  food  for  many  days  and  sailed 
away. 

Another  of  the  dogs  that  tried  to  follow  him  across 
was  lost  in  the  ice;  we  heard  his  miserable  wailing 
moans  as  he  was  carried  away,  but  could  not  help  him. 
My  Indians  thought  nothing  of  it  and  were  amused  at 
my  solicitude. 

A  couple  of  hours  later  we  landed  on  the  rugged  east 
coast  to  study  our  course  through  the  ice.    At  once 


THE  DOGS  OF  FORT  RESOLUTION     1G7 

we  were  met  by  four  dogs  that  trotted  along  the  shore 
to  where  we  landed.  They  did  not  seem  very  gaunt; 
one,  an  old  yellow  female,  carried  something  in  her 
mouth;  this  she  never  laid  down,  and  growled  savagely 
when  any  of  the  others  came  near.  It  proved  to  be 
the  blood-stained  leg  of  a  new-killed  dog,  yellow  like 
herself. 

As  we  pulled  out  a  big  black-and-white  fellow  looked 
at  us  wistfully  from  a  rocky  ledge;  memories  of  Bingo, 
whom  he  resembled  not  a  little,  touched  me.  I  threw 
him  a  large  piece  of  dried  meat.  He  ate  it,  but  not 
ravenously.  He  seemed  in  need,  not  of  food,  but  of 
company. 

A  few  miles  farther  on  we  again  landed  to  study  the 
lake;  as  we  came  near  we  saw  the  dogs,  not  four  but 
six, now  racing  to  meet  us.  I  said  to  Preble :  "It  seems 
to  me  it  would  be  the  part  of  mercy  to  shoot  them  all." 
He  answered:  "They  are  worth  nothing  now,  but  you 
shoot  one  and  its  value  would  at  once  jump  up  to  one 
hundred  dollars.  Every  one  knows  everything  that  is 
done  in  this  country.  You  would  have  six  hundred 
dollars'  damages  to  pay  when  you  got  back  to  Fort 
Resolution." 

I  got  out  our  stock  of  fresh  fish.  The  Indians,  seeing 
my  purpose,  said:  "Throw  it  in  the  water  and  see  them 
dive."  I  did  so  and  found  that  the}'  would  dive  into 
several  feet  of  water  and  bring  up  the  fish  without  fail. 
The  yellow  female  was  not  here,  so  I  suppose  she  had 
Stayed  to  finish  her  bone. 

When  we  came  away,  heading  for  the  open  hike  the 
dogs  followed  us  as  far  as  they  could,  then  gathering 


168  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

on  a  flat  rock,  the  end  of  a  long  point,  they  sat  down, 
some  with  their  backs  to  us;  all  raised  their  muzzles 
and  howled  to  the  sky  a  heart-rending  dirge. 
I  was  thankful  to  lose  them  in  the  distance. 


Dog-toggle  or  clog,  Smith  Landing 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE  LAKE 

Hitherto  I  have  endeavoured  to  group  my  observa- 
tions on  each  subject;  I  shall  now  for  a  change  give 
part  of  the  voyage  across  Great  Slave  Lake  much  as 
it  appears  in  my  journal. 

"July  16,  1907.— Left  Fort  Resolution  at  9.40  a.  m. 
in  the  York  boat  manned  by  7  Indians  and  Billy  Lout  it, 
besides  Preble  and  myself,  10  in  all;  ready  with  mast 
and  sail  for  fair  wind,  but  also  provided  with  heavy 
lG-foot  oars  for  head-winds  and  calm.  Harding  says 
we  should  make  Pike's  Portage  in  3  or  4  days. 

"Reached  Moose  Island  at  11.30  chiefly  by  rowing; 
camped.  A  large  dog  appeared  on  the  bank.  Free- 
say  recognised  it  as  his  and  went  ashore  with  a  club. 
We  heard  the  dog  yelping.  Freesay  came  back  saying: 
'He'll  go  home  now.' 

"At  1.30  went  on  but  stopped  an  unnecessary  half- 
hour  at  a  saw-mill  getting  plank  for  scats.  Readied 
the  Big,  or  Main,  River  at  4.10;  stopped  for  tea  again 
till  4.50,  then  rowed  up  the  river  till  .5.40;  rested  15 
minutes,  rowed  till  G.30;  rested  15  minutes,  rowed  till 
7;  then  got  into  the  down  current  of  the  north  branch 
or  mouth  of  the  Slave;  down  then  we  drifted  till  S, 
then  landed  and  made  another  meal,  the  fourth  to-day, 
and  went  on  drifting  at  8.30. 

169 


170  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

"At  9.30  we  heard  a  Ruffed  Grouse  drumming,  the 
last  of  the  season,  also  a  Bittern  pumping,  some  Cranes 
trumpeting,  and  a  Wood  Frog  croaking.  Snipe  were 
still  whirring  in  the  sky.    Saw  Common  Tern. 

"At  10.15,  still  light,  we  camped  for  the  night  and 
made  another  meal.  The  Indians  went  out  and  shot  2 
Muskrats,  making  7  the  total  of  these  I  have  seen  in 
the  country.  This  is  the  very  lowest  ebb.  Why  are 
they  so  scarce?  Their  low  epoch  agrees  with  that  of 
the  Rabbits. 

"July  17. — Rose  at  6  (it  should  have  been  4,  but  the 
Indians  would  not  rouse);  sailed  north  through  the 
marsh  with  a  light  east  breeze.  At  noon  this  changed 
to  a  strong  wind  blowing  from  the  north,  as  it  has  done 
with  little  variation  ever  since  I  came  to  the  country. 
These  Indians  know  little  of  handling  a  boat  and  re- 
sent any  suggestion.  They  maintain  their  right  to 
row  or  rest,  as  they  please,  and  land  when  and  where 
they  think  best.  We  camped  on  a  sand-bar  and  waited 
till  night;  most  exasperating  when  we  are  already  be- 
hind time.  The  Indians  set  a  net,  using  for  tie- 
strings  the  bark  of  the  willow  (Salix  bebbiana).  They 
caught  a  Jack-fish.  Reached  Stony  Island  at  night, 
after  many  stops  and  landings.  The  Indians  land 
whenever  in  doubt  and  make  a  meal  (at  my  expense), 
and  are  in  doubt  every  two  hours  or  so.  They  eat  by 
themselves  and  have  their  own  cook.  Billy  cooks  for 
us,  i.e.,  Preble,  Weeso,  and  myself.  Among  the  crew 
I  hear  unmistakable  grumblings  about  the  food,  which 
is  puzzling,  as  it  is  the  best  they  ever  had  in  their  lives; 
there  is  great  variety  and  no  limit  to  the  quantity. 


THE  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE  LAKE     171 

"Made  6  meals  and  17  miles  to-day,  rowing  7,  sail- 
ing 10. 

"July  18. — Left  Stony  Island  at  6.55;  could  not  get 
the  crew  started  sooner;  sailing  with  a  light  breeze 
which  soon  died  down  and  left  us  on  a  sea  of  glass.  I 
never  before  realised  how  disgusting  a  calm  could  be. 

"  Camped  at  9.15  on  one  of  the  countless,  unnamed, 
uncharted  islands  of  the  lake.  It  is  very  beautiful  in 
colour,  red  granite,  spotted  with  orange  and  black 
lichen  on  its  face,  and  carpeted  with  caribou  moss  and 
species  of  cetraria,  great  patches  of  tripe-de-roche, 
beds  of  saxifrage,  long  trailers,  and  masses  of  bear- 
berry,  empetrum,  ground  cedar,  juniper,  cryptograma, 
and  many  others;  while  the  trees,  willow,  birch, 
and  spruce  are  full  of  character  and  drawing.  Sky 
and  lake  are  in  colour  worthy  of  these  rich  details,  the 
bird  life  is  well  represented  and  beautiful;  there  is 
beauty  everywhere,  and  'only  man  is  vile.' 

"  I  am  more  and  more  disgusted  with  my  Indian  crew; 
the  leader  in  mischief  seems  to  be  young  Beaulieu. 
Yesterday  he  fomented  a  mutiny  because  I  did  not 
give  them  'beans,'  though  I  had  given  them  far  more 
than  promised,  and  beans  were  never  mentioned. 
Still,  he  had  discovered  a  bag  of  them  among  my 
next  month's  stores,  and  that  started  him. 

"  To-day,  when  sick  of  seeing  them  dawdling  two 
hours  over  a  meal  when  there  are  6  meals  a  day,  I 
g-  ,ve  the  order  to  start.  Beaulieu  demanded  insolently: 
'  Jh!  who's  boss?'  My  patience  was  worn  out.  I 
said:  'I  am,  and  I'll  show  you  right  now/  and  pro- 
ceeded to  do  so,  meaning  to  let  him  have  my  fist  with 


172  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

all  the  steam  I  could  get  back  of  it.  But  he  did  not 
wait.  At  a  safe  distance  he  turned  and  in  a  totally 
different  manner  said:  'I  only  want  to  know;  I  thought 
maybe  the  old  man  (the  guide).  I'll  do  it,  all  ri,  all 
ri,'  and  he  smiled  and  smiled. 

"Oh!  why  did  I  not  heed  Pike's  warning  to  shun 
all  Beaulieus;  they  rarely  fail  to  breed  trouble.  If  I 
had  realised  all  this  last  night  before  coming  to  the 
open  lake  I  would  have  taken  the  whole  outfit  back  to 
Resolution  and  got  rid  of  the  crowd.  We  could  do 
better  with  another  canoe  and  two  men,  and  at  least 
make  better  time  than  this  (17  miles  a  day). 

"Yesterday  the  Indian  boys  borrowed  my  canoe, 
my  line,  and  in  my  time,  at  my  expense,  caught  a  big 
fish,  but  sullenly  disregarded  the  suggestion  that  I 
should  have  a  piece  of  it. 

"Each  of  them  carries  a  Winchester  and  blazes  away 
at  every  living  thing  that  appears.  They  have  volleyed 
all  day  at  every  creature  big  enough  to  afford  a  mouth- 
ful— Ducks,  Gulls,  Loons,  Fish,  Owls,  Terns,  etc. — but 
have  hit  nothing.  Loons  are  abundant  in  the  water 
and  are  on  the  Indians'  list  of  Ducks,  therefore  good 
food.  They  are  wonderfully  expert  at  calling  them. 
This  morning  a  couple  of  Loons  appeared  flying  far 
to  the  east.  The  Indians  at  once  began  to  mimic 
their  rolling  whoo-ooo-whoo-ooo;  doing  it  to  the  life. 
The  Loons  began  to  swing  toward  us,  then  to  circle, 
each  time  nearer.  Then  all  the  callers  stopped  except 
Claw-hammer,  the  expert;  he  began  to  utter  a  peculiar 
cat-like  wail.  The  Loons  responded  and  dropped  their 
feet  as  though  to  alight.    Then  at  40  yards  the  whole 


THE   VOYAGE   ACROSS  THE  LAKE     173 

crew  blazed  away  with  their  rifles,  doing  no  damage 
whatever.  The  Loons  turned  away  from  these  unholy 
callers,  and  were  Done  the  worse,  but  wiser. 

"This  scene  was  repeated  many  times  during  the 
voyage.  When  the  Loons  are  on  the  water  the  Ind- 
ians toll  them  by  flashing  a  tin  pan  from  the  bushes 
behind  which  the  toller  hides  till  the  bird  is  in  range. 
I  saw  many  clever  tollings  but  I  did  not  see  a  Loon 
killed. 

"  July  19. — I  got  up  at  4,  talked  strong  talk,  so  actu- 
ally got  away  at  5.30.  Plenty  grumbling,  many  meals 
to-day,  with  many  black  looks  and  occasional  remarks 
in  English:  'Grub  no  good.'  Three  days  ago  these 
men  were  starving  on  one  meal  a  day,  of  fish  and  bad 
flour;  now  they  have  bacon,  dried  venison,  fresh  fish, 
fresh  game,  potatoes,  flour,  baking  powder,  tea,  coffee, 
milk,  sugar,  molasses,  lard,  cocoa,  dried  apples,  rice, 
oatmeal,  far  more  than  was  promised,  all  ad  libitum, 
and  the  best  that  the  II.  B.  Co.  can  supply,  and  yet  they 
grumble.  There  is  only  one  article  of  the  food  store 
to  which  they  have  not  access ;  that  is  a  bag  of  beans 
which  I  am  reserving  for  our  own  trip  in  the  north 
where  weight  counts  for  so  much.  Bcaulieu  smiles 
when  I  speak  to  him,  but  I  know  he  is  at  the  bottom 
of  all  this  mischief.  To  day  they  made  6  meals  and 
17  miles — this  is  magnificent. 

"About  7.30  a  pair  of  Wild  Geese  (Canada)  appeared 
on  a  bay.  The  boys  let  off  :i  whoop  of  delight  and 
rushed  on  them  in  canoe  and  in  boat  as  though  these 
were  their  deadliest  enemies.  I  did  not  think  much  of 
it  until  I  noticed  that  the  Geese  would  not  fly,  and  it 


174  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

dawned  on  me  that  they  were  protecting  their  young 
behind  their  own  bodies.  A  volley  of  shot-guns  and 
Winchesters  and  one  noble  head  fell  flat  on  the  water, 
another  volley  and  the  gander  fell,  then  a  wild  skurry- 
ing,  yelling,  and  shooting  for  some  minutes  resulted  in 
the  death  of  the  two  downlings. 

"I  could  do  nothing  to  stop  them.  I  have  trouble 
enough  in  matters  that  are  my  business  and  this  they 
consider  solely  their  own.  It  is  nothing  but  kill,  kill, 
kill  every  living  thing  they  meet.  One  cannot  blame 
them  in  general,  since  they  live  by  hunting,  and  in  this 
case  they  certainly  did  eat  every  bit  of  all  four  birds, 
even  to  their  digestive  organs  with  contents;  but  it 
seemed  hard  to  have  the  devotion  of  the  parents  made 
their  death  trap  when,  after  all,  we  were  not  in  need  of 
meat. 

11 July  20. — Rose  at  4;  had  trouble  on  my  hands  at 
once.  The  Indians  would  not  get  up  till  5,  so  we  did 
not  get  away  till  6.20.  Beaulieu  was  evidently  in- 
structing the  crew,  for  at  the  third  breakfast  all  to- 
gether (but  perhaps  2)  shouted  out  in  English,  'Grub 
no  good.' 

"I  walked  over  to  them,  asked  who  spoke;  no  one 
answered;  so  I  reviewed  the  bargain,  pointed  out 
that  I  had  given  more  than  agreed,  and  added:  'I 
did  not  promise  you  beans,  but  will  say  now  that  if 
you  work  well  I'll  give  you  a  bean  feast  once  in  a 
while.' 

"They  all  said  in  various  tongues  and  ways,  'That's 
all  ri.'  Beaulieu  said  it  several  times,  and  smiled 
and  smiled. 


THE  VOYAGE   ACROSS  THE   LAKH      175 

"If  the  mythical  monster  that  dwells  in  the  bottom 
of  Great  Slave  Lake  had  reached  up  its  long  neck  now 
and  taken  this  same  half-breed  son  of  Belial,  I  should 
have  said,  'Well  done,  good  and  faithful  monster/ 
and  the  rest  of  our  voyage  would  have  been  happier. 
Oh!  what  a  lot  of  pother  a  beneficent  little  bean  can 
make. 

"At  noon  that  day  Billy  announced  that  it  was  time 
to  give  me  a  lobstick;  a  spruce  was  selected  on  a  slate 
island  and  trimmed  to  its  proper  style,  then  inscribed : 

E.  T.  Seton 

E.  A.  Preble 

W.  C.  Loutit 

20  July 

1907 

"Now  I  was  in  honour  bound  to  treat  the  crew.  I 
had  neither  the  power  nor  the  wish  to  give  whiskey. 
Tobacco  was  already  provided,  so  I  seized  the  op- 
portunity of  smoothing  things  by  announcing  a  feast 
of  beans,  and  this,  there  was  good  reason  to  believe, 
went  far  in  the  cause  of  peace. 

"At  1.30  for  the  first  time  a  fair  breeze  sprang  up 
or  rather  lazily  got  up.  Joyfully  then  we  raised  our 
mast  and  sail.  The  boys  curled  up  to  sleep,  except 
Beaulieu.  He  had  his  fiddle  and  now  he  proceeded 
to  favour  us  with  'A  Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave,'  'The 
Campbells  are  Coming/  etc.,  in  a  manner  worthy  of 
his  social  position  and  of  his  fiddle.  When  not  in 
use  this  aesthetic  instrument  (in  its  box)  knocks  about 
on   deck    or   underfoot,   among   pots    and  pans,    ex- 


17G 


THE   ARCTIC    PRAIRIES 


posed  in  all  weather;  no  one  seems  to  fear  it  will  be 
injured. 

"At  7  the  usual  dead  calm  was  restored.  We 
rowed  till  we  reached  Et-then  Island  at  8,  covering  two 
miles  more  or  32  in  all  to-day.    I  was  unwilling  to 


My  Lobstick  on  a  slate  island, 
Great  Slave  Lake 


stop  now,  but  the  boys  said  they  would  row  all  day 
Sunday  if  I  would  camp  here,  and  then  added,  'And 
if  the  wind  rises  to-night  we'll  go  on.' 

"At  10  o'clock  I  was  already  in  bed  for  the  night, 
though  of  course  it  was  broad  daylight.     Preble  had 


THE   VOYAGE   ACROSS  THE   LAKE     177 

put  out  a  line  of  mouse-traps,  when  the  cry  was  raised 
by  the  Indians  now  eating  their  7th  meal:  'Chim-pal- 
lel  Hurra!  Chilla  queer1  ('Sailing  wind!  Hurra,  boys!'). 

"The  camp  was  all  made,  but  after  such  a  long  calm 
a  sailing  wind  was  too  good  to  miss.  In  10  minutes 
('very  tent  was  torn  down  and  bundled  into  the  boat. 
At  10.10  we  pulled  out  under  a  fine  promising  breeze; 
but  alas!  for  its  promise!  at  10.30  the  last  vestige  of 
it  died  away  and  we  had  to  use  the  oars  to  make  the 
nearest  land,  where  we  tied  up  at  11  p.  m. 

"That  night  old  Weeso  said  to  me,  through  Billy, 
the  interpreter:  'To-morrow  is  Sunday,  therefore  he 
would  like  to  have  a  prayer-meeting  after  breakfast.' 

"'Tell  him,'  I  said,  'that  I  quite  approve  of  his 
prayer-meeting,  but  also  it  must  be  understood  that  if 
the  good  Lord  sends  us  a  sailing  wind  in  the  morning 
that  is  His  way  of  letting  us  know  we  should  sail.' 

"This  sounded  so  logical  that  Weeso  meekly  said, 
'All  right.' 

"Sure  enough,  the  morning  dawned  with  a  wind  and 
we  got  away  after  the  regular  sullen  grumbling.  About 
10.20  the  usual  glassy  calm  set  in  and  Weeso  asked 
me  for  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pencil.  He  wrote  some- 
thing in  Chipewyan  on  the  sheet  I  gave,  then  returned 
the  pencil  and  resumed  his  pilotic  stare  at  the  horizon, 
for  his  post  was  at  the  rudder.  At  length  he  rolled  the 
paper  into  a  ball,  and  when  I  seemed  not  observing 
dropped  it  behind  him  overboard. 

"'What  is  the  meaning  of  that,  Billy?'  I  whispered. 

"'He's  sending  a  prayer  to  Jesus  for  wind.'  Half 
an  hour   afterward    a    strong   hcad-w'md   sprang  up, 


178  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

and  Weeso  was  severely  criticised  for  not  specifying 
clearly  what  was  wanted. 

"There  could  be  no  question  now  about  the  propri- 
ety of  landing.  Old  Weeso  took  all  the  Indians  off  to 
a  rock,  where,  bareheaded  and  in  line,  they  kneeled 
facing  the  east,  and  for  half  an  hour  he  led  them  in 
prayer,  making  often  the  sign  of  the  cross.  The  head- 
wind died  away  as  they  came  to  the  boat  and  again 
we  resumed  the  weary  rowing,  a  labour  which  all  were 
supposed  to  share,  but  it  did  not  need  an  expert  to  see 
that  Beaulieu,  Snuff,  and  Terchon  merely  dipped  their 
oars  and  let  them  drift  a  while ;  the  real  rowing  of  that 
cumbrous  old  failure  of  a  sailboat  was  done  by  Billy 
Loutit  and  Yum  Freesay." 


Platygobio  gracilis 


CHAPTER  XXV 

CROSSING  THE   LAKE— ITS  NATURAL  HISTORY 

All  day  long  here,  as  on  the  Nyarling,  I  busied  myself 
with  compass  and  sketch-book,  making  the  field  notes, 
sketches,  and  compass  surveys  from  which  my  various 
maps  were  compiled;  and  Preble  let  no  chance  go  by 
of  noting  the  changing  bird  and  plant  life  that  told  us 
we  quit  the  Canadian  fauna  at  Stony  Island  and  now 
were  in  the  Hudsonian  zone. 

This  is  the  belt  of  dwindling  trees,  the  last  or  north- 
most  zone  of  the  forest,  and  the  spruce  trees  showed 
everywhere  that  they  were  living  a  life-long  battle, 
growing  and  seeding,  but  dwarfed  by  frost  and  hard- 
ships. But  sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity,  and  the 
stunted  sprucelings  were  beautified,  not  uglified,  by 
their  troubles.  I  never  before  realised  that  a  whole 
country  could  be  such  a  series  of  charming  little  Jap- 
anese gardens,  with  tiny  trees,  tiny  flowers,  tiny  fruits, 
and  gorgeous  oriental  rugs  upon  the  earth  and  rocks 
between. 

I  photographed  one  group  of  trees  to  illustrate  their 
dainty  elfish  dwarfishness,  but  realising  that  no  one 
could  guess  the  height  without  a  scale,  I  took  a  second 
of  the  same  with  a  small  Indian  sitting  next  it. 

YVeeso  is  a  kind  old  soul;  so  far  as  I  could  see  he 
took  no  part  in  the  various  seditions,  but  he  was  not 

179 


Map  of  Great  Slave  Lake 


Pike's  Portage 

Founded  chiefly  nn  J.  W.  Tyrrell'j  m»p  of  1900 


182  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

an  inspiring  guide.  One  afternoon  he  did  something 
that  made  a  final  wreck  of  my  confidence.  A  thunder- 
storm was  rumbling  in  the  far  east.  Black  clouds 
began  travelling  toward  us;  with  a  line  of  dark  and 
troubled  waters  below,  the  faint  breeze  changed  around 


Oot-sing-gree-ay  Island  Cliff  on  N.  E.  end  of  Et-then  Island 

and  became  a  squall.  Weeso  looked  scared  and  beck- 
oned to  Freesay,  who  came  and  took  the  helm.  Noth- 
ing happened. 

We  were  now  running  along  the  north  shore  of  Et- 
then,  where  are  to  be  seen  the  wonderful  1,200-foot 
cliffs  described  and  figured  by  Captain  George  Back  in 
1834.  They  are  glorious  ramparts,  wonderful  in  size 
and  in  colour,  marvellous  in  their  geological  display. 

Flying,  and  evidently  nesting  among  the  dizzy  tow- 
ers, were  a  few  Barn-swallows  and  Phcebe-birds. 

This  cliff  is  repeated  on  Oot-sing-gree-ay,  the  next 
island,  but  there  it  is  not  on  the  water's  edge.  It  gives 
a  wonderful  echo  which  the  Indians  (not  to  mention 
myself)  played  with,  in  childish  fashion. 

On  Sunday,  21  July,  we  made  a  new  record,  6  meals 
and  20  miles. 

On  July  22  we  made  only  7  meals  and  11  miles  and 
camped  in  the  narrows  Tal-thel-lay.  These  are  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  wide  and  have  a  strong  current  run- 


The  Japanese  landscape  about  Great  Slave  Lake 


Dwarf  spruce,  about  fbur  feet  high,  on  edge  of  the  Barren-Grounds 


CROSSING  THE  LAKE  li- 

ning westerly.  This  is  the  place  which  Back  says  is  a 
famous  fishing  ground  and  never  freezes  over,  even  in 
the  hardest  winters.  Here,  as  a1  all  points,  I  noted 
the  Indian  names,  not  only  because  they  were  appro- 
priate, but  in  hopes  of  serving  the  next  traveller.  I 
found  an  unexpected  difficulty  in  writing  them  down. 
viz.:  no  matter  how  I  pronounced  them,  old  Weeso 
and  Freesay,  my  informants,  would  say,  ''Yes,  that 
is  right."  This,  I  learned,  was  out  of  politeness;  no 
matter  how  you  mispronounce  their  words  it  is  good 
form  to  say,  "That's  it;  now  you  have  it  exactly." 

The  Indians  were  anxious  to  put  out  a  net  overnight 
here,  as  they  could  count  on  getting  a  few  Whitefifih; 
so  we  camped  at  5.15.  It  is  difficult  to  convey  to 
an  outsider  the  charm  of  the  word  "whitefish."  Any 
northerner  will  tell  you  that  it  is  the  only  fish  that  is 
perfect  human  food,  the  only  food  that  man  or  dog 
never  wearies  of,  the  only  lake  food  that  conveys  no 
disorder  no  matter  how  long  or  freely  it  is  used.  It 
is  so  delicious  and  nourishing  that  there  is  no  fish  in 
the  world  that  can  even  come  second  to  it.  It  is  as 
far  superior  in  all  food  qualities  to  the  finest  Salmon  or 
Trout  as  a  first-prize,  gold-medalled,  nut-fed  thorough- 
bred Sussex  bacon-hog  is  to  the  roughest,  toughest, 
boniest  old  razor-backed  land-pike  that  ever  ranged 
the  woods  of  Arkansas. 

That  night  the  net  yielded  3  Whitefish  and  3  Trout. 
The  latter,  being  4  to  8  pounds  each,  would  have  been 
reckoned  great  prizes  in  any  other  country,  but  now 
all  attention  was  on  the  Whitefish.  They  certainly 
were  radiantly  white,  celestial  in  color;  their  backs 


184  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

were  a  dull  frosted  silver,  with  here  and  there  a  small 
electric  lamp  behind  the  scales  to  make  its  jewels 
sparkle.  The  lamps  alternated  with  opals  increased 
on  the  side;  the  bellies  were  of  a  blazing  mother-of- 
pearl.  It  would  be  hard  to  imagine  a  less  imaginative 
name  than  "white"  fish  for  such  a  shining,  burning 
opalescence.    Indian  names  are  usually  descriptive, 


Tha-sess  San-dou-ay  two  miles  away  (Swallow  Island) 

but  their  name  for  this  is  simply  "The  Fish."  All 
others  are  mere  dilutes  and  cheap  imitations,  but  the 
Coregonus  is  at  all  times  and  par  excellence  "The  Fish." 

Nevertheless,  in  looking  at  it  I  could  not  help  feeling 
that  this  is  the  fat  swine,  or  the  beef  Durham  of  its 
kind.  The  head,  gills,  fins,  tail,  vital  organs  and  bones 
all  were  reduced  to  a  minimum  and  the  meat  parts 
enlarged  and  solidified,  as  though  they  were  the  prod- 
uct of  ages  of  careful  breeding  by  man  to  produce  a 
perfect  food  fish,  a  breeding  that  has  been  crowned 
with  the  crown  of  absolute  success. 

The  Indians  know,  for  the  best  of  reasons,  the  just 
value  of  every  native  food.  When  Rabbits  abound 
they  live  on  them  but  do  not  prosper;  they  call  it 
"starving  on  rabbits."  When  Caribou  meat  is  plenty 
they  eat  it,  but  crave  flour.  When  Moose  is  at  hand 
they  eat  it,  and  are  strong.  When  Jack-fish,  Sucker, 
Conies,  and  Trout  are  there,  they  take  them  as  a  vari- 
ant ;  but  on  Whitefish,  as  on  Moose,  they  can  live  with- 


CROSSING  THE   LAKE  185 

out  loathing,  and  be  strong.  The  Indian  who  has  his 
scaffold  hung  with  Whitefish  when  winter  comes,  is 
accounted  rich. 

"And  what,"  says  the  pessimist,  "is  the  fly  in  all  this 
precious  ointment?"  Alas!  It  is  not  a  game  fish; 
it  will  not  take  bait,  spoon,  or  fly,  and  its  finest  prop- 
erties vanish  in  a  few  hours  after  capture. 

The  Whitefish  served  in  the  marble  palaces  of  other 
lands  is  as  mere  dish-water  to  champagne,  when  com- 
pared with  the  three  times  purified  and  ten  times  in- 
tensified dazzling  silver  Corcgonus  as  it  is  landed  on  the 
bleak  shores  of  those  far-away  icy  lakes.  So  I  could 
not  say  'No'  to  the  Indian  boys  when  they  wanted  to 
wait  here,  the  last  point  at  which  they  could  be  sure 
of  a  catch. 

That  night  (22d  July)  five  canoes  and  two  York 
boats  of  Indians  landed  at  the  narrows.  These  were 
Dogribs  of  Chief  VitaPs  band;  all  told  they  numbered 
about  thirty  men,  women,  and  children ;  with  them  were 
twenty-odd  dogs,  which  immediately  began  to  make 
trouble.  When  one  is  in  Texas  the  topic  of  conversa- 
tion is,  "How  are  the  cattle?"  in  the  Klondike,  "How 
is  your  claim  panning  out?"  and  in  New  York,  "How 
are  you  getting  on  with  your  novel?"  On  Great  Slave 
Lake  you  say,  "Where  are  the  Caribou?"  The  In- 
dians could  not  tell;  they  had  seen  none  for  weeks, 
but  there  was  still  much  ice  in  the  east  end  of  the  lake 
which  kept  them  from  investigating.  They  had  plenty 
of  dried  Caribou  meat  but  were  out  of  ten  and  tobacco. 
I  had  come  prepared  for  this  sort  of  situation,  and  soon 
we  had  a  fine  stock  of  dried  venison. 


186  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

These  were  the  Indians  whose  abandoned  dogs  made 
so  much  trouble  for  us  in  the  days  that  followed. 

At  4  p.  m.  of  23d  of  July  we  were  stopped  by  a  long 
narrow  floe  of  broken  ice.  Without  consulting  me  the 
crew  made  for  the  shore. 

It  seemed  they  were  full  of  fears:  "What  if  they 
should  get  caught  in  that  floe,  and  drift  around  for 
days?  What  if  a  wind  should  arise  (it  had  been 
glassy  calm  for  a  week)?  What  if  they  could  not  get 
back?"  etc.,  etc. 

Preble  and  I  climbed  a  hill  for  a  view.  The  floe  was 
but  half  a  mile  wide,  very  loose,  with  frequent  lanes. 

"Preble,  is  there  any  reason  why  we  should  not 
push  through  this  floe  using  poles  to  move  the  cakes?  " 

"None  whatever." 

On  descending,  however,  I  found  the  boys  preparing 
to  camp  for  "a  couple  of  days,"  while  the  ice  melted 
or  drifted  away  somewhere. 

So  I  said,  "You  get  right  into  this  boat  now  and 
push  off;  we  can  easily  work  our  way  through."  They 
made  no  reply,  simply  looked  sulkier  than  ever,  and 
proceeded  to  start  a  fire  for  meal  No.  5. 

"Weeso,"  I  said,  "get  into  your  place  and  tell  your 
men  to  follow." 

The  old  man  looked  worried  and  did  nothing.  He 
wanted  to  do  right,  but  he  was  in  awe  of  his  crew. 

Then  did  I  remember  how  John  MacDonald  settled 
the  rebellion  on  the  river. 

"Get  in  there,"  I  said  to  Preble  and  Billy.  "Come 
on,  Weeso."  We  four  jumped  into  the  boat  and  pro- 
ceeded to  push  off  with  all  the  supplies. 


J 


CROSSING  THE  LAKE  L87 

Authorities  differ  as  to  the  time  it  took  for  the  crew 
to  make  up  their  minds.  Two  seconds  and  eleven 
seconds  are  perhaps  the  extremes  of  estimate.  They 
came  jumping  aboard  as  fast  as  they  could. 

We  attacked  the  floe,  each  with  a  lodge-pole;  that  is, 
Billy  and  Preble  did  in  the  how,  while  Treesay  and 
1  did  at  the  rear;  and  in  thirty-five  minutes  we  had 
pushed  through  and  were  sailing  the  open  sea. 

The  next  day  we  had  the  same  scene  repeated  with 
[ess  intensity,  in  this  case  because  Freesay  sided  with 
me.  What  would  I  not  give  to  have  had  a  crew  of 
white  men.  A  couple  of  stout  Norwegian  sailors  would 
have  done  far  better  than  this  whole  outfit  of  reds. 

When  we  stopped  for  supper  No.  1  a  tiny  thimble- 
ful of  down  on  two  pink  matches  ran  past,  and  at  once 
the  mother,  a  Peetweet,  came  running  in  distress  to 
save  her  young.  The  brave  Beaulieu  fearlessly  seized 
a  big  stick  and  ran  to  kill  the  little  one.  I  shouted 
out/'Stnp  that,"  in  tones  that  implied  that  I  owned  the 
heaven,  the  earth,  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  them  is,  but 
could  not  have  saved  the  downling  had  it  not  leaped 
into  the  water  and  dived  out  of  sight.  It  came  up  two 
feet  away  and  swam  to  a  rock  of  safety,  where  it  bobbed 
its  latter  end  toward  its  adversaries  and  the  open  sea  in 
turn. 

I  never  before  knew  that  they  could  dive. 

About  eight  o'clock  we  began  to  look  for  a  good  place 
to  camp  and  make  meal  No.  6.  But  the  islands  where 
usually  we  found  refuge  from  the  dogs  were  without 
wood,  and  the  shores  were  too  rugged  and  steep  or  had 
no  dry  timber,  so  we  kept  going  on.    After  trying  one 


188  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

or  two  places  the  Indians  said  it  was  only  a  mile  to 
Indian  Mountain  River  (Der-sheth  Tessy),  where  was  a 
camp  of  their  friends.  I  was  always  glad  of  a  reason 
for  pushing  on,  so  away  we  went.  My  crew  seized 
their  rifles  and  fired  to  let  their  village  know  we  were 
coming.  The  camp  came  quickly  into  view,  and 
volley  after  volley  was  fired  and  returned. 

These  Indians  are  extremely  poor  and  the  shots 
cost  5  and  6  cents  each.  So  this  demonstration  totalled 
up  about  $2.00. 

As  we  drew  near  the  village  of  lodges  the  populace 
lined  up  on  shore,  and  then  our  boys  whispered,  "Some 
white  men."  What  a  peculiar  thrill  it  gave  me!  I 
had  seen  nothing  but  Indians  along  the  route  so  far  and 
expected  nothing  else.  But  here  were  some  of  my  own 
people,  folk  with  whom  I  could  talk.  They  proved  to 
be  my  American  friend  from  Smith  Landing,  he  whose 
hand  I  had  lanced,  and  his  companion,  a  young  English- 
man, who  was  here  with  him  prospecting  for  gold  and 
copper.  "I'm  all  right  now,"  he  said,  and  held  up  the 
hand  with  my  mark  on  it,  and  our  greeting  was  that  of 
white  men  meeting  among  strangers  in  a  far  foreign  land. 

As  soon  as  we  were  ashore  a  number  of  Indians  came 
to  offer  meat  for  tobacco.  They  seemed  a  lot  of  to- 
bacco-maniacs. "Tzel-twee"  at  any  price  they  must 
have.  Food  they  could  do  without  for  a  long  time, 
but  life  without  smoke  was  intolerable;  and  they 
offered  their  whole  dried  product  of  two  Caribou,  con- 
centrated, nourishing  food  enough  to  last  a  family 
many  days,  in  exchange  for  half  a  pound  of  nasty, 
stinking,  poisonous  tobacco. 


CROSSING  THE  LAKE  189 

Two  weeks  hence,  they  say,  these  hills  will  be  alive 
with  Caribou;  alas!  for  them,  it  proved  a  wholly  er- 
roneous forecast. 

Y.'s  guide  is  Sousi  King  Beaulieu  (for  pedigree,  see 
Warburton  Pike);  he  knows  all  this  country  well  and 
gave  us  much  information  about  the  route.  He  .says 
that  this  year  the  Caribou  cows  went  north  as  usual,  but 
the  bulls  did  not.  The  season  was  so  late  they  did  not 
think  it  worth  while;  they  are  abundant  yet  at  Artillery 
Lake. 

He  recognised  me  as  the  medicine  man,  and  took  an 
early  opportunity  of  telling  me  what  a  pain  he  had. 
Just  where,  he  was  not  sure,  but  it  was  hard  to  bear; 
he  would  like  some  sort  of  a  pain-killer.  Evidently  he 
craved  a  general  exhilarator. 

Next  morning  we  got  away  at  7  A.  M.  after  the  usual 
painful  scene  about  getting  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  which  was  absurd,  as  there  was  no  night. 

Next  afternoon  we  passed  the  Great  White  Fall  at 
the  mouth  of  Hoar  Frost  River;  the  Indians  call  it 
Dezza  Kya.  If  this  is  the  Beverly  Falls  of  Back,  his 
illustrator  was  without  information;  the  published  pic- 
ture bears  not  the  slightest  resemblance  to  it. 

At  three  in  the  afternoon  of  July  27th,  the  twelfth 
day  after  we  had  set  out  on  the  "three  or  four  day 
run"  from  Resolution,  this  exasperating  and  seemingly 
interminable  voyage  really  did  end,  and  we  thankfully 
Ik 'ached  our  York  boat  at  the  famous  lobstiek  that 
marks  the  landing  of  Pike's  Portage. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
THE  LYNX  AT  BAY 

One  of  the  few  rewarding  episodes  of  this  voyage  took 
place  on  the  last  morning,  July  27.  We  were  half  a 
mile  from  Charleston  Harbour  when  one  of  the  In- 
dians said  "Cheesay"  (Lynx)  and  pointed  to  the  south 
shore.  There,  on  a  bare  point  a  quarter  mile  away,  we 
saw  a  large  Lynx  walking  quietly  along.  Every  oar 
was  dropped  and  every  rifle  seized,  of  course,  to  repeat 
the  same  old  scene;  probably  it  would  have  made  no 
difference  to  the  Lynx, but  I  called  out: "Hold  on  there! 
I'm  going  after  that  Cheesay." 

Calling  my  two  reliables,  Preble  and  Billy,  we  set 
out  in  the  canoe,  armed,  respectively,  with  a  shotgun, 
a  club,  and  a  camera. 

When  we  landed  the  Lynx  was  gone.  We  hastily 
made  a  skirmishing  line  in  the  wood  where  the  point 
joined  the  mainland,  but  saw  no  sign  of  him,  so 
concluded  that  he  must  be  hiding  on  the  point.  Billy 
took  the  right  shore,  Preble  the  left,  I  kept  the  middle. 
Then  we  marched  toward  the  point  but  saw  nothing. 
There  were  no  bushes  except  a  low  thicket  of  spruce, 
some  20  feet  across  and  3  or  4  feet  high.  This  was  too 
dense  to  penetrate  standing,  so  I  lay  down  on  my  breast 
and  proceeded  to  crawl  in  under  the  low  boughs.  I 
had  not  gone  six  feet  before  a  savage  growl  warned  me 

190 


THE  LYNX   AT   BAY  191 

back,  and  there,  jusl  ahead,  crouched  the  Lynx.  He 
glared  angrily,  then  ids*1  up,  and  I  Baw,  with  a  little 
shock,  that  he  had  been  crouching  on  the  body  of 
another  Lynx,  eating  it.  Photography  was  impossible 
there,  so  I  took  a  stick  and  poked  at  him;  he  growled, 
struck  at  the  stick,  but  went  out,  then  dashed  across 
the  open  for  the  woods.  As  he  went  I  got  photograph 
No.  1.  Now  I  saw  the  incredible  wonder  I  had  heard 
of — a  good  runner  can  outrun  a  Lynx.  Preble  was 
a  sprinter,  and  before  the  timber  200  yards  off  was 
reached  that  Lynx  was  headed  and  turned;  and  Preble 
and  Billy  were  driving  him  back  into  my  studio.  He 
made  several  dashes  to  escape,  but  was  out-manoeuvred 
and  driven  onto  the  far  point,  where  he  was  really 
between  the  devils  and  the  deep  sea.  Here  he  faced 
about  at  bay,  growling  furiously,  thumping  his  little 
bobtail  from  side  to  side,  and  pretending  he  was  going 
to  spring  on  us.  I  took  photo  No.  2  at  25  yards.  He 
certainly  did  look  very  fierce,  but  I  thought  I  knew  the 
creature,  as  well  as  the  men  who  were  backing  me.  I 
retired,  put  a  new  film  in  place,  and  said: 

"Now,  Preble,  I'm  going  to  walk  up  to  that  Lynx 
and  get  a  close  photo.  If  he  jumps  for  me,  and  he 
may,  there  is  nothing  can  save  my  beauty  but  you 
and  that  gun." 

Preble  with  characteristic  loquacity  says,  "Go 
ahead." 

Then  I  stopped  and  began  slowly  approaching  the 
desperate  creature  we  held  at  bay.  I  lis  eves  were 
glaring  green,  his  ears  were  back,  his  small  bobtail 
kept  twitching  from  side  to  side,  and  his  growls  grew 


192  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

harder  and  hissier,  as  I  neared  him.  At  15  feet  he 
gathered  his  legs  under  him  as  for  a  spring,  and  1 
pressed  the  button  getting,  No.  3. 

Then  did  the  demon  of  ambition  enter  into  my 
heart  and  lead  me  into  peril.  That  Lynx  at  bay  was 
starving  and  desperate.  He  might  spring  at  me,  but 
I  believed  that  if  he  did  he  never  would  reach  me  alive. 
I  knew  my  man — this  nerved  me — and  I  said  to  him: 
"I'm  not  satisfied;  I  want  him  to  fill  the  finder.  Are 
you  ready?" 

"Yep." 

So  I  crouched  lower  and  came  still  nearer,  and  at 
12  feet  made  No.  4.  For  some  strange  reason,  now  the 
Lynx  seemed  less  angry  than  he  had  been. 

"He  didn't  fill  the  finder;  I'll  try  again,"  was  my 
next.  Then  on  my  knees  I  crawled  up,  watching  the 
finder  till  it  was  full  of  Lynx.  I  glanced  at  the  beast; 
he  was  but  8  feet  away.    I  focused  and  fired. 

And  now,  oh,  wonder!  that  Lynx  no  longer  seemed 
annoyed;  he  had  ceased  growling  and  simply  looked 
bored. 

Seeing  it  was  over,  Preble  says,  "Now  where  does 
he  go?    To  the  Museum?" 

" No,  indeed ! "  was  the  reply.  "He  surely  has  earned 
his  keep;  turn  him  loose.  It's  back  to  the  woods  for 
him."  We  stood  aside;  he  saw  his  chance  and  dashed 
for  the  tall  timber.  As  he  went  I  fired  the  last  film, 
getting  No.  6;  and  so  far  as  I  know  that  Lynx  is  alive 
and  well  and  going  yet. 


I^w^hRI   «0 

p{S 

fct» 

1 

vIm 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  I  AST  OF  THAT  INDIAN  CREW 

Carved  on  the  lobstick  of  the  Landing  were  many 
names  famous  in  the  annals  of  this  region,  Pike, 
Malt crn,  McKinlcy,  Munn,  Tyrrel  among  them.  All 
about  were  evidences  of  an  ancient  and  modern  camp — 
lodge  poles  ready  for  the  covers,  relics  and  wrecks  of 
all  sorts,  fragments  of  canoes  and  sleds,  and  the  in- 
evitable stray  Indian  dog. 

First  we  made  a  meal,  of  course;  then  I  explained  to 
the  crew  thai  I  wanted  all  the  stuff  carried  over  the 
portage,  o{  miles,  to  the  first  lake.  At  once  there  was 
a  row;  I  was  used  to  that.  There  had  been  a  row 
every  morning  over  getting  up,  and  one  or  two  each 
day  about  other  details.  Now  the  evil  face  of  Beaulieu 
showed  that  his  tongue  was  at  work  again.  But  I 
knew  my  lesson. 

"You  were  brought  to  man  the  boat  and  bring  my 
stuff  over  this  portage.    So  do  it  and  start  right  now." 

They  started  •'>',  miles  with  heavy  loads,  very  heavy 
labour  I  musl  admit,  back  then  in  four  hours  to  make 
another  meal,  and  camp. 

Next  morning  another  row  before  they  would  get  up 
and  take  each  another  load.  But  canoe  and  every- 
thing were  over  by  noon.  And  then  came  the  final 
scene. 

193 


194  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

In  all  the  quarrels  and  mutinies,  old  Weeso  had  been 
faithful  to  me.  Freesay  had  said  little  or  nothing, 
and  had  always  worked  well  and  cheerfully.  Weeso 
was  old  and  weak,  Freesay  young  and  strong,  and 
therefore  he  was  the  one  for  our  canoe.  I  decided  it 
would  pay  to  subsidise  Weeso  to  resign  in  favour  of 
the  younger  man.  But,  to  be  sure,  first  asked  Freesay 
if  he  would  like  to  come  with  me  to  the  land  of  the 
Musk-ox.  His  answer  was  short  and  final,  "Yes,"  but 
he  could  not,  as  his  uncle  had  told  him  not  to  go  be- 
yond this  portage.  That  settled  it.  The  childlike 
obedience  to  their  elders  is  admirable,  but  embarrass- 
ing at  times. 

So  Weeso  went  after  all,  and  we  got  very  well  ac- 
quainted on  that  long  trip.  He  was  a  nice  old  chap. 
He  always  meant  well;  grinned  so  happily  when  he 
was  praised,  and  looked  so  glum  when  he  was  scolded. 
There  was  little  of  the  latter  to  do;  so  far  as  he  knew, 
he  did  his  best,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  now  to  conjure  up 
his  face  and  ways.  His  cheery  voice,  at  my  tent  door 
every  morning,  was  the  signal  that  Billy  had  the 
breakfast  within  ten  minutes  of  ready. 

"Okimow,  To"  (Chief,  here  is  water),  he  would  say 
as  he  set  down  the  water  for  my  bath  and  wondered 
what  in  the  name  of  common  sense  should  make  the 
Okimow  need  washing  every  morning.  He  himself 
was  of  a  cleaner  kind,  having  needed  no  bath  during 
the  whole  term  of  our  acquaintance. 

There  were  two  peculiarities  of  the  old  man  that 
should  make  him  a  good  guide  for  the  next  party  going 
northward.    First,  he  never  forgot  a  place  once  he 


THE  LAST  OF  THAT  INDIAN  CREW    195 

had  been  there,  and  could  afterward  go  to  it  direct 
from  any  other  place.  Second,  he  had  the  most  won- 
derful nose  for  firewood;  no  keen-eyed  raven  or  starv- 
ing wolf  could  go  more  surely  to  a  marrow-bone  in 
cache,  than  could  Weeso  to  the  little  sticks  in  far  away 
hollows  or  granite  clefts.  Again  and  again,  when  we 
landed  on  the  level  or  rocky  shore  and  all  hands  set 
out  to  pick  up  the  few  pencil-thick  stems  of  creeping 
birch,  roots  of  annual  plants,  or  wisps  of  grass  to  boil 
the  kettle,  old  Weeso  would  wander  off  by  himself 
and  in  five  minutes  return  with  an  armful  of  the 
most  amazingly  acceptable  firewood  conjured  out  of 
the  absolutely  timberless,  unpromising  waste.  I  never 
yet  saw  the  camp  where  he  could  not  find  wood.  So 
he  proved  good  stuff;  I  was  glad  we  had  brought  him 
along. 

And  I  was  equally  glad  now  to  say  good-bye  to  the 
rest  of  the  crew.  I  gave  them  provisions  for  a  week, 
added  a  boiling  of  beans,  and  finalty  the  wonderful 
paper  in  which  I  stated  the  days  they  had  worked  for 
me,  and  the  kind  of  sendee  they  had  rendered,  com- 
mended Freesay,  and  told  the  truth  about  Bcaulieu. 

"Dat  paper  tell  about  me/'  said  that  worthy  sus- 
piciously. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "and  about  the  others;  and  it  tells 
Harding  to  pay  you  as  agreed." 

We  all  shook  hands  and  parted.  I  have  not  seen 
them  since,  nor  do  I  wish  to  meet  any  of  them  again, 
except  Freesay. 

My  advice  to  the  next  traveller  would  be:  get  white 
men  for  the  trip  and  one  Indian  for  guide.     When 


196  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

alone  they  are  manageable,  and  some  of  them,  as  seen 
already,  are  quite  satisfactory,  but  the  more  of  them 
the  worse.  They  combine,  as  Pike  says,  the  meanest 
qualities  of  a  savage  and  an  unscrupulous  money- 
lender. The  worst  one  in  the  crowd  seems  most  readily 
followed  by  the  others. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


GEOLOGICAL  FORCES  AT  WORK 


left 


It  seems  to  me  that  never  before  have  I  seen  the 
geological  forces  of  nature  so  obviously  at  work. 
Elsewhere  I  have  seen  great  valleys,  cliffs,  islands,  etc., 
held  on  good  evidence  to  be  the  results  of  such  and 
such  powers  formerly  very  active;  but  here  on  the 
Athabaska  I  saw  daily  ev- 
idence of  these  powers  in 
full  blast,  ripping,  tearing, 
reconstructing,  while  we 
looked  on.  piU  'JUL  1 JCJ  i  L  (r 

All  the  way  down  the     %]>i\  I  "  llf 
river  we  saw  the  process        ^  „V  \    'J!  '1  ,. 
of  undermining  the  bank,     '  \ '/  "7//  '/'':*"*V,J//^m 
tearing  down  the  trees  to     *i_- ^   ■_''" 'J     )/  !  I  j"  j-  % 
whirl  them  again  on  dis- 

,  .,  i  ,,  Bank  exposing  different  levels,  etc. 

tant  northern  shores,  thus     _,   .       .    „  .     ..    ,       „ 

/  Showing  QOW  VSTlOtll  U<'<><\*  r\n<\  let  plowing!  h.ivo 

•    l  •  ii  •  I  1  «  Danced  the  level  within  recent  years 

widening  the  river  channel 

until  too  wide  for  its  normal  flood,  which  in  time 
drops  into  a  deeper  restricted  channel,  in  the  wide 
summer  waste  of  gravel  and  sand. 

Ten  thousand  landslides  take  place  every  spring, 
contributing  their  tons  of  mud  to  the  millions  that  the 
river  is  deporting  to  the  broad  catch  basins  called  the 
Athabaska  and  Great  Slave  Lakes. 

197 


198 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Many  a  tree  has  happened  to  stand  on  the  very  crack 
that  is  the  upmost  limit  of  the  slide  and  has  in  con- 
sequence been  ripped  in  two. 

Many  an  island  is  wiped  out  and  many  a  one  made 
in  these  annual  floods.  Again  and  again  we  saw  the 
evidence  of  some  island,  continued  long  enough  to  raise 
a  spruce  forest,  suddenly  receive  a 
6-foot  contribution  from  its  erratic 
mother;  so  the  trees  were  buried  to 
the  arm-pits. 

Many  times  I  saw  where  some 
frightful  jam  of  ice  had  planed  off 
all  the  trees;  then  a  deep  over- 
whelming layer  of  mud  had  bur- 
ied the  stumps  and  grown  in  time 
a  new  spruce  forest.  Now  the 
A  41  inch  birciTspiit  by  mighty  erratic  river  was  tearing  all 
a  landslide.   This  is  a   ^s   work   away  again,  exposing 

common  accident  J        °       '         r  ° 

all  its  history. 

In  the  delta  of  the  Slave,  near  Fort  Resolution,  we 
saw  the  plan  of  delta  work.  Millions  of  tons  of  mud 
poured  into  the  deep  translucent  lake  have  filled  it  for 
miles,  so  that  it  is  scarcely  deep  enough  to  float  a 
canoe;  thousands  of  huge  trees,  stolen  from  the  upper 
forest,  are  here  stranded  as  wing-dams  that  check  the 
current  and  hold  more  mud.  Rushes  grow  on  this  and 
catch  more  mud.  Then  the  willows  bind  it  more, 
and  the  sawing  down  of  the  outlet  into  the  Mackenzie 
results  in  all  this  mud  being  left  dry  land. 

This  is  the  process  that  has  made  all  the  lowlands 
at  the  mouth  of  Great  Slave  and  Athabaska  Rivers. 


GEOLOGICAL  FORCES  AT  WORK       199 

And  the  lines  of  tree  trunks  to-day,  preparing  for  the 
next  constructive  annexation  of  the  lake,  are  so  regular 
that  one's  first  thought  is  thai  this  is  the  work  of  man. 
But  these  are  things  that  my  sketches  and  photographs 
will  show  better  than  words. 

When  later  we  got  onto  the  treeless  Barrens  or  Tun- 
dra, the  process  was  equally  evident,  though  at  this 
time  dormant,  and  the  chief  agent  was  not  running 
water,  but  the  giant  Jack  Frost. 


r#*- 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

PIKE'S  PORTAGE 

Part  of  my  plan  was  to  leave  a  provision  cache  every 
hundred  miles,  with  enough  food  to  carry  us  200  miles, 
and  thus  cover  the  possibility  of  considerable  loss.  I 
had  left  supplies  at  Chipewyan,  Smith,  and  Resolution, 
but  these  were  settlements;  now  we  were  pushing  off 
into  the  absolute  wilderness,  where  it  was  unlikely  we 
should  see  any  human  beings  but  ourselves.  Now, 
indeed,  we  were  facing  all  primitive  conditions.  Other 
travellers  have  made  similar  plans  for  food  stores, 
but  there  are  three  deadly  enemies  to  a  cache — weather, 
ravens,  and  wolverines.  I  was  prepared  for  all  three. 
Water-proof  leatheroid  cases  were  to  turn  the  storm, 
dancing  tins  and  lines  will  scare  the  ravens,  and  each 
cache  tree  was  made  unclimbable  to  Wolverines  by  the 
addition  of  a  necklace  of  charms  in  the  form  of  large 
fish-hooks,  all  nailed  on  with  points  downward.  This 
idea,  borrowed  from  Tyrrell,  has  always  proved  a  suc- 
cess; and  not  one  of  our  caches  was  touched  or  injured. 
Tyrrell  has  done  much  for  this  region ;  his  name  will 
ever  be  linked  with  its  geography  and  history.  His 
map  of  the  portage  was  a  godsend,  for  now  we  found 
that  our  guide  had  been  here  only  once,  and  that  when 
he  was  a  child,  with  many  resultant  lapses  of  memory 
and  doubts  about  the  trail.  My  only  wonder  was  that 
he  remembered  as  much  as  he  did. 

200 


The  Deathbirds,  the  Sturm,  and  the  Wolverine 


PIKE'S   PORTAGE  201 

Here  we  had  a  Midden  and  unexpected  onset  of  black 
flies;    they  appeared  for  the  first   time  in  numbers, 

and  attacked  lis  with  a  ferocity  thai  made  the  mos- 
quitoes seem  like  a  lot  of  baby  butterflies  in  com- 
parison. However,  much  as  we  may  dislike  the  latter, 
they  at  least  do  not  poison  us  or  convey  disease  (as 
yet),  and  are  repelled  by  thick  clothing.  The  black 
flies  attack  us  like  some  awful  pestilence  walking  in 
darkness,  crawling  in  and  forcing  themselves  under 
our  clothing,  stinging  and  poisoning  as  they  go.  They 
are,  of  course,  worst  near  the  openings  in  our  armour, 
that  is  necks,  wrists,  and  ankles.  Soon  each  of  us  had 
a  neck  like  an  old  fighting  bull  walrus;  enormously 
swollen,  corrugated  with  bloats  and  wrinkles,  blotched, 
bumpy,  and  bloody,  as  disgusting  as  it  was  painful. 
All  too  closely  it  simulated  the  ravages  of  some  fright- 
ful disease,  and  for  a  night  or  two  the  torture  of  this 
itching  fire  kept  me  from  sleeping.  Three  days, 
fortunately,  ended  the  black  fly  reign,  and  left  us  with 
a  deeper  sympathy  for  the  poor  Egyptians  who  on 
account  of  their  own  or  some  other  bodies'  sins  were 
the  victims  of  "plagues  of  flies." 

But  there  was  something  in  the  camp  that  amply 
offset  these  annoyances;  this  was  a  spirit  of  kindness 
and  confidence.  Old  Weeso  was  smiling  and  happy, 
ready  at  all  times  to  do  his  best ;  his  blundering  about 
the  way  was  not  surprising,  all  things  considered,  but 
his  mistakes  did  not  matter;  since  I  had  Tyrrell's  ad- 
mirable maps.  Billy,  sturdy,  strong,  reliable,  never 
needed  to  be  called  twice  in  the  morning.  No  matter 
what  the  hour,  he  was  up  at  once  and  cooking  the  break- 


202  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

fast  in  the  best  of  style,  for  an  A  1  cook  he  was.  And 
when  it  came  to  the  portages  he  would  shoulder  his 
200  or  250  pounds  each  time.  Preble  combined  the 
mental  force  of  the  educated  white  man  with  the  brawn 
of  the  savage,  and  although  not  supposed  to  do  it,  he 
took  the  same  sort  of  loads  as  Billy  did.  Mine,  for  the 
best  of  reasons,  were  small,  and  consisted  chiefly  of  the 
guns,  cameras,  and  breakables,  or  occasionally,  while 
they  were  transporting  the  heavy  stuff,  I  acted  as 
cook.  But  all  were  literally  and  figuratively  in  the 
same  boat,  all  paddled  all  day,  ate  the  same  food, 
worked  the  same  hours,  and  imbued  with  the  same 
spirit  were  eager  to  reach  the  same  far  goal.  From 
this  on  the  trip  was  ideal. 

We  were  31  days  covering  the  8  small  lakes  and 
9  portages  (30  miles)  that  lie  between  the  two  great 
highways,  Great  Slave  Lake  and  Artillery  Lake;  and 
camped  on  the  shore  of  the  latter  on  the  night  of  July  31. 

Two  of  these  9  lakes  had  not  been  named  by  the 
original  explorers.  I  therefore  exercised  my  privilege 
and  named  them,  respectively,  "Loutit"  and  "Weeso," 
in  honour  of  my  men. 

The  country  here  is  cut  up  on  every  side  with  caribou 
trails;  deep  worn  like  the  buffalo  trails  on  the  plains, 
with  occasional  horns  and  bones;  these,  however, 
are  not  so  plentiful  as  were  the  relics  of  the  Buffalo. 
This,  it  proved,  was  because  the  Caribou  go  far  north 
at  horn-dropping  time,  and  they  have  practically  no 
bones  that  the  Wolves  cannot  crush  with  their  teeth. 

Although  old  tracks  were  myriad-many,  there  were 
no  new  ones.    Weeso  said,  however,  "In  about  four 


PIKE'S  PORTAGE  203 

days  the  shores  of  this  lake  will  be  alive  with  Caribou." 
It  will  show  the  erratic  nature  of  these  animals  when 
I  say  that  the  old  man  was  all  wrong;  they  did  not 
appear  there  in  numbers  until  many  weeks  later, 
probably  not  for  two  months. 

Here,  at  the  foot  of  Artillery  Lake,  we  were  near  the 
last  of  the  timber,  and,  strange  to  say,  we  found  some 
trees  of  remarkably  large  growth.  One,  a  tamarac, 
was  the  largest  and  last  seen;  the  other,  a  spruce — 
Pike's  Lobstick — was  55  inches  in  girth,  1  foot  from 
the  ground. 

At  this  camp  Weeso  complained  that  he  was  feeling 
very  sick;  had  pains  in  his  back.  I  could  not  make 
out  wThat  was  the  matter  with  him,  but  Billy  said 
sagaciously,  "I  think  if  you  give  him  any  kind  of  a  pill 
he  will  be  all  right.  It  doesn't  matter  what,  so  long 
as  it's  a  pill." 

Of  course  "cathartic"  is  good  blind  play  in  case  of 
doubt.    He  got  a  big,  fierce  rhubarb,  and  all  went  well. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

CARIBOU-LAND  AT  LAST 

On  the  morning  of  August  1  we  launched  on  Artillery 
Lake,  feeling,  for  the  tenth  time,  that  now  we  really 
were  on  the  crowning  stretch  of  our  journey,  that  at 
last  we  were  entering  the  land  of  the  Caribou. 

Over  the  deep,  tranquil  waters  of  the  lake  we  went, 
scanning  the  painted  shores  with  their  dwindling  rem- 
nants of  forest.  There  is  something  inspiring  about  the 
profundity  of  transparency  in  these  lakes,  where  they 
are  15  feet  deep  their  bottoms  are  no  more  obscured 
than  in  an  ordinary  eastern  brook  at  6  inches.  On 
looking  down  into  the  far-below  world,  one  gets  the 
sensation  of  flight  as  one  skims  overhead  in  the  swift 
canoe.  And  how  swift  that  elegant  canoe  was  in  a 
clear  run  I  was  only  now  finding  out.  All  my  previous 
estimates  had  been  too  low.  Here  I  had  the  absolute 
gauge  of  Tyrrell's  maps  and  found  that  we  four  pad- 
dling could  send  her,  not  3J,  but  4^  or  5  miles  an  hour, 
with  a  possibility  of  6  when  we  made  an  effort.  As  we 
spun  along  the  south-east  coast  of  the  lake,  the  country 
grew  less  rugged;  the  continuous  steep  granite  hills 
were  replaced  by  lower  buttes  with  long  grassy  plains 
between;  and  as  I  took  them  in,  I  marvelled  at  their 
name — the  Barrens;  bare  of  trees,  yes,  but  the  plains 
were  covered  with  rich,  rank  grass,  more  like  New 

204 


Artillery  Lake 


founded  rhltflj  oa  J,  w     ryrrall'i  nupot  1WQ 


206  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

England  meadows.  There  were  stretches  where  the 
herbage  was  rank  as  on  the  Indiana  prairies,  and  the 
average  pasture  of  the  bleaker  parts  was  better  than 
the  best  of  central  Wyoming.  A  cattleman  of  the 
West  would  think  himself  made  if  he  could  be  sure  of 
such  pastures  on  his  range,  yet  these  are  the  Barren 
Grounds. 

At  3  we  passed  the  splendid  landmark  of  Beaver 
Lodge  Mountain.    Its  rosy-red  granite  cliffs  contrast 


Beaver  Lodge  Mountain.     Aug.  7,  1907 

wonderfully  with  its  emerald  cap  of  verdant  grass 
and  mosses,  that  cover  it  in  tropical  luxuriance,  and 
the  rippling  lake  about  it  was  of  Mediterranean  hues. 

We  covered  the  last  9  miles  in  1  hour  and  53  minutes, 
passed  the  deserted  Indian  village,  and  landed  at  Last 
Woods  by  8.30  p.  m. 

The  edge  of  the  timber  is  the  dividing  line  between 
the  Hudsonian  and  the  Arctic  zones.  It  is  the  begin- 
ning of  the  country  we  had  come  to  see ;  we  were  now 
in  the  land  of  the  Caribou. 

At  this  point  we  were  prepared  to  spend  several 
days,  leave  a  cache,  gather  a  bundle  of  choice  firewood, 
then  enter  on  the  treeless  plains. 

That  night  it  stormed;  all  were  tired;  there  was  no 
reason  to  bestir  ourselves;  it  was  10  when  we  arose. 
Half  an  hour  later  Billy  came  to  my  tent  and  said, 
"Mr.  Seton,  here's  some  deer."    I  rushed  to  the  door, 


Casba  River  and  Lake 

founded  chlefl]  on  J.  W.  Tyrrell's  miy  of  1900 


208  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

and  there,  with  my  own  eyes,  I  saw  on  a  ridge  a  mile 
away  four  great  Caribou  standing  against  the  sky. 

We  made  for  a  near  hill  and  met  Preble  returning; 
he  also  had  seen  them.  From  a  higher  view-point  the 
4  proved  part  of  a  band  of  20. 

Then  other  bands  came  in  view,  16,  61,  3,  200,  and 
so  on;  each  valley  had  a  scattering  few,  all  travelling 
slowly  southward  or  standing  to  enjoy  the  cool  breeze 
that  ended  the  torment  of  the  flies.  About  1,000  were 
in  sight.  These  were  my  first  Caribou,  the  first  fruits 
of  3,000  miles  of  travel. 

Weeso  got  greatly  excited;  these  were  the  fore- 
runners of  the  vast  herd.  He  said,  "Plenty  Caribou 
now,"  and  grinned  like  a  happy  child. 

I  went  in  one  direction,  taking  only  my  camera.  At 
least  20  Caribou  trotted  within  50  feet  of  me. 

Billy  and  Weeso  took  their  rifles  intent  on  venison, 
but  the  Caribou  avoided  them,  and  6  or  8  shots  were 
heard  before  they  got  a  young  buck. 

All  that  day  I  revelled  in  Caribou,  no  enormous  herds 
but  always  a  few  in  sight. 

The  next  day  Weeso  and  I  went  to  the  top  ridge 
eastward.  He  with  rifle,  I  with  camera.  He  has  a 
vague  idea  of  the  camera's  use,  but  told  Billy  privately 
that  "the  rifle  was  much  better  for  Caribou."  He 
could  not  understand  why  I  should  restrain  him  from 
blazing  away  as  long  as  the  ammunition  held  out. 
"Didn't  we  come  to  shoot?"  But  he  was  amenable 
to  discipline,  and  did  as  I  wished  when  he  under- 
stood. 

Now  on  the  top  of  that  windy  ridge  I  sat  with  this 


CARIBOU-LAND  AT  LAST  209 

copper-coloured  child  of  the  spruce  woods,  to  watch 
those  cattle  of  the  plains. 

The  Caribou  is  a  travelsome  beast,  always  in  a  hurry, 
going  against  the  wind.  When  the  wind  is  west,  all 
travel  west ;  when  it  veers,  they  veer.  Now  the  wind 
was  northerly,  and  all  were  going  north,  not  walking, 
not  galloping — the  Caribou  rarely  gallops,  and  then 
only  for  a  moment  or  two;  his  fast  gait  is  a  steady 
trot  a  10-mile  gait,  making  with  stops  about  6  miles 
an  hour.  But  they  are  ever  on  the  move;  when  you 
see  a  Caribou  that  does  not  move,  you  know  at  once  it 
is  not  a  Caribou;   it's  a  rock. 

We  sat  down  on  the  hill  at  3.  In  a  few  minutes  a 
cow  Caribou  came  trotting  from  the  south,  caught  the 
wind  at  50  yards,  and  dashed  away. 

In  5  minutes  another,  in  20  minutes  a  young  buck, 
in  20  minutes  more  a  big  buck,  in  10  minutes  a  great 
herd  of  about  500  appeared  in  the  south.  They  came 
along  at  full  trot,  lined  to  pass  us  on  the  south-east. 
At  half  a  mile  they  struck  our  scent  and  all  recoiled 
as  though  we  were  among  them.  They  scattered  in 
alarm,  rushed  south  again,  then,  gathered  in  solid  body, 
came  on  as  before,  again  to  spring  back  and  scatter  as 
they  caught  the  taint  of  man.  After  much  and  various 
running,  scattering,  and  massing,  they  once  more 
charged  the  fearsome  odour  and  went  right  through  it. 
Now  they  passed  at  500  yards  and  gave  the  chance 
for  a  far  camera  shot. 

The  sound  of  their  trampling  was  heard  a  long  way 
off — half  a  mile — but  at  MOO  yards  I  could  not  dis- 
tinguish the  clicking  of  the  feet,  whereas  this  clicking 


210  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

was  very  plainly  to  be  heard  from  the  band  that 
passed  within  50  yards  of  me  in  the  morning. 

They  snort  a  good  deal  and  grunt  a  little,  and,  not- 
withstanding their  continual  haste,  I  noticed  that  from 
time  to  time  one  or  two  would  lie  down,  but  at  once 
jump  up  and  rush  on  when  they  found  they  were  being 
left  behind.  Many  more  single  deer  came  that  day, 
but  no  more  large  herds. 

About  4.30  a  fawn  of  this  year  (2J  or  3  months)  came 
rushing  up  from  the  north,  all  alone.  It  charged  up  a 
hill  for  200  yards,  then  changed  its  mind  and  charged 
down  again,  then  raced  to  a  bunch  of  tempting  herbage, 
cropped  it  hastily,  dashed  to  a  knoll,  left  at  an  angle, 
darted  toward  us  till  within  40  yards,  then  dropped 
into  a  thick  bed  of  grass,  where  it  lay  as  though  it  had 
unlimited  time. 

I  took  one  photograph,  and  as  I  crawled  to  get  one 
nearer,  a  shot  passed  over  my  head,  and  the  merry 
cackle  told  me  that  Weeso  had  yielded  to  temptation 
and  had  '  collected  '  that  fawn. 

A  young  buck  now  came  trotting  and  grunting  toward 
us  till  within  16  paces,  which  proved  too  much  for 
Weeso,  who  then  and  there,  in  spite  of  repeated  recent 
orders,  started  him  on  the  first  step  toward  my  museum 
collection. 

I  scolded  him  angrily,  and  he  looked  glum  and 
unhappy,  like  a  naughty  little  boy  caught  in  some 
indiscretion  which  he  cannot  understand.  He  said 
nothing  to  me  then,  but  later  complained  to  Billy, 
asking,  "What  did  we  come  for?" 

Next  morning  at  dawn  I  dreamed  I  was  back  in 


CARIBOU-LAND  AT  LAST  211 

New  York  and  that  a  couple  of  cats  were  wailing 
under  my  bedroom  window.  Their  noise  increased 
so  that  I  awoke,  and  then  I  heard  unaccountable 
caterwauls.  They  were  very  loud  and  near,  at  least 
one  of  the  creatures  was.  At  length  I  got  up  to  sec. 
Here  on  the  lake  a  few  yards  from  the  tent  was  a  loon 
swimming  about,  minutely  inspecting  the  tent  and 
uttering  at  intervals  deep  cat-like  mews  in  expression 
of  his   curiosity. 

The  south  wind  had  blown  for  some  days  before  we 
arrived,  and  the  result  was  to  fill  the  country  with  Cari- 
bou coming  from  the  north.  The  day  after  we  came, 
the  north  wind  set  in,  and  continued  for  three  days, 
so  that  soon  there  was  not  a  Caribou  to  be  found  in 
the    region. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  up  the  hill  to  where  Weeso 
left  the  offal  of  his  deer.  A  large  yellowish  animal 
was  there  feeding.  It  disappeared  over  a  rock  and  I 
could  get  no  second  view  of  it.  It  may  have  been  a 
wolf,  as  I  saw  a  fresh  wolf  trail  near;  I  did  not,  however, 
see  the  animal's  tail. 

In  the  evening  Preble  and  I  went  again,  and  again 
the  creature  was  there,  but  disappeared  as  mysteriously 
as  before  when  we  were  200  yards  away.  Where  it 
went  we  could  not  guess.  The  country  was  open  and 
we  scoured  it  with  eye  and  glass,  but  saw  nothing  more 
of  the  prowler.  It  seemed  to  be  a  young  Arctic  wolf, 
yellowish  white  in  colour,  but  tailless. 

Next  day  at  noon  Preble  and  Billy  returned  bearing 
the  illusive  visitor;  it  was  a  large  Lynx.  It  was  very 
thin  and  yet,  after  bleeding,  weighed  22  pounds.     But 


212  THE   ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

why  was  it  so  far  from  the  forest,  20  miles  or  more,  and 
a  couple  of  miles  from  this  little  grove  that  formed  the 
last  woods? 

This  is  another  evidence  of  the  straits  the  Lynxes 
are  put  to  for  food,  in  this  year  of  famine. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

GOOD-BYE  TO  THE  WOODS 

The  last  woods  is  a  wonderfully  interesting  biological 
point  or  line;  this  ultimate  arm  of  the  forest  does  not 
die  away  gradually  with  uncertain  edges  and  in  steadily 
dwindling  trees.  The  latter  have  sent  their  stoutest 
champions  to  the  front,  or  produced,  as  by  a  final 
effort,  some  giants  for  the  line  of  battle.  And  that  line, 
with  its  sentinels,  is  so  marked  that  one  can  stand  with 
a  foot  on  the  territory  of  each  combatant,  or,  as  scien- 
tists call  them,  the  Arctic  Region  and  the  cold  Tem- 
perate. 

And  each  of  the  embattled  kings,  Jack-frost  and 
Sombre-pine,  has  his  children  in  abundance  to  possess 
the  land  as  he  wins  it.  Right  up  to  the  skirmish  line 
are  they. 

The  low  thickets  of  the  woods  are  swarming  with 
Tree-sparrows,  Redpolls,  Robins,  Hooded  Sparrows, 
and  the  bare  plains,  a  few  yards  away,  are  peopled 
and  vocal  with  birds  to  whom  a  bush  is  an  abomina- 
tion. Lap-longspur,  Snowbird,  Shorclarks,  and  Pipits 
are  here,  soaring  and  singing,  or  among  the  barren 
rocks  are  Ptarmigan  in  garments  that  are  painted  in 
the  patterns  of  their  rocks. 

There  is  one  sombre  fowl  of  ampler  wing  that  knows 
no  line — is  at  home  in  the  open  or  in  the  woods.     His 

213 


214  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

sonorous  voice  has  a  human  sound  that  is  uncanny; 
his  form  is  visible  afar  in  the  desert  and  sinister  as  a 
gibbet;  his  plumage  fits  in  with  nothing  but  the  night, 
which  he  does  not  love.  This  evil  genius  of  the  land  is 
the  Raven  of  the  north.    Its  numbers  increased  as  we 


Cairn  Bay,  looking  south.    August  7,  1907 


reached  the  Barrens,  and  the  morning  after  the  first 
Caribou  was  killed,  no  less  than  28  were  assembled 
at  its  offal. 

An  even  more  interesting  bird  of  the  woods  is  the 
Hooded  Sparrow,  interesting  because  so  little  known. 

Here  I  found  it  on  its  breeding-grounds,  a  little  late 
for  its  vernal  song,  but  in  September  we  heard  its 
autumnal  renewal  like  the  notes  of  its  kinsmen,  White- 
throat  and  White-crowned  Sparrows,  but  with  less 
whistling,  and  more  trilled.  In  all  the  woods  of  the 
Hudsonian  Zone  we  found  it  evidently  at  home.  But 
here  I  was  privileged  to  find  the  first  nest  of  the  species 
known  to  science.  The  victory  was  robbed  of  its 
crown,  through  the  nest  having  fledglings  instead  of 
eggs,  but  still  it  was  the  ample  reward  of  hours  of 
search. 


GOOD-BYE  TO  THE  WOODS  215 

Of  course  it  was  on  the  ground,  in  the  moss  and  creep- 
ing plants,  under  some  bushes  of  dwarf  birch,  screened 
by  spruces.  The  structure  closely  resembled  that  of 
the  Whitethroat,  was  lined  with  grass  and  fibrous 
roots;  no  down,  feathers,  or  fur  were  observable.  The 
young  numbered  four. 

The  last  woods  was  the  limit  of  other  interesting 
creatures — the  Ants.  Wherever  one  looks  on  the 
ground,  in  a  high,  dry  place,  throughout  the  forest 
country,  from  Athabaska  Landing  northward  along 
our  route,  there  is  to  be  seen  at  least  one  Ant  to  the 
square  foot,  usually  several.  Three  kinds  seem  com- 
mon— one  red-bodied,  another  a  black  one  with  brown 
thorax,  and  a  third  very  small  and  all  black.  They 
seem  to  live  chiefly  in  hollow  logs  and  stumps,  but  are 
found  also  on  marshes,  where  their  hills  are  occasionally 
so  numerous  as  to  form  dry  bridges  across. 

I  made  many  notes  on  the  growth  of  timber  here  and 
all  along  the  route;  and  for  comparison  will  begin  at  the 
very  beginning. 

In  March,  1907,  at  my  home  in  Connecticut,  I  cut 
down  an  oak  tree  (Q.  palustris)  that  was  110  feet  high, 
32  inches  in  diameter,  and  yet  had  only  70  rings  of 
annual  growth. 

In  the  Bittcrroot  Mountains  of  Idaho,  where  I 
camped  in  September,  1902,  a  yellow  pine  6  feet  6 
inches  high  was  5\  inches  in  circumference  at  base. 
It  had  14  rings  and  14  whorls  of  branches  corresponding 
exactly  with  the  rings. 

At  the  same  place  I  measured  a  balsam  fir — 84  feet 
high,  15  inches  in  diameter  at  32  inches  from  the 


216  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

ground.  It  had  52  annual  rings  and  50  or  possibly 
52  whorls  of  branches.  The  most  vigorous  upward 
growth  of  the  trunk  corresponded  exactly  with  the 
largest  growth  of  wood  in  the  stump.  Thus  ring  No. 
33  was  f  inch  wide  and  whorl  No.  33  had  over  2  feet  of 
growth,  below  it  on  the  trunk  were  others  which  had 
but  6  inches. 

On  the  stump  most  growth  was  on  north-east  side; 
there  it  was  9  inches,  from  pith  to  bark  next  on  east 
8<2  inches,  on  south  8  inches,  north  6J  inches,  west  6^ 
inches,  least  on  north-west  side,  6  inches.  The  most 
light  in  this  case  came  from  the  north-east.  This  was 
in  the  land  of  mighty  timber. 

On  Great  Slave  River,  the  higher  latitude  is  offset 
by  lower  altitude,  and  on  June  2,  1907,  while  among 
the  tall  white  spruce  trees  I  measured  one  of  average 
size — 118  feet  high,  11  feet  2  inches  in  girth  a  foot  from 
the  ground  (3  feet  6J  inches  in  diameter),  and  many 
black  poplars  nearly  as  tall  were  9  feet  in  girth. 

But  the  stunting  effect  of  the  short  summer  became 
marked  as  we  went  northward.  At  Fort  Smith,  June 
20,  I  cut  down  a  jackpine  that  was  12  feet  high,  1 
inch  in  diameter,  with  23  annual  rings  at  the  bottom; 
6  feet  up  it  had  12  rings  and  20  whorls.  In  all  it 
appeared  to  have  43  whorls,  which  is  puzzling.  Of 
these  20  were  in  the  lower  part.  This  tree  grew  in 
dense  shade. 

At  Fort  Resolution  we  left  the  Canadian  region  of 
large  timber  and  entered  the  stunted  spruce,  as  noted, 
and  at  length  on  the  timber  line  we  saw  the  final  effort 
of  the  forests  to  combat  Jack  Frost  in  his  own  king- 


The  giants  on  the  edge  of  the  forest 


Am  ancient  dwarf  about   250  years  old.     Bills   ready  for  action. 


*-f4ftht 


GOOD-BYE  TO  THE   WOODS  217 

dom.  The  individual  history  of  each  tree  is  in  three 
stages: 

First,  as  a  low,  thick,  creeping  bush  sometimes  ten 
feet  across,  bul  only  a  foot  high.  In  this  stage  it  con- 
tinues until  rooted  enough  and  with  capital  enough  to 
Bend  up  a  Long  central  shoot;  which  is  stage  No.  2. 

This  central  shoot  is 
like  a  Noah's  Ark  pine; 
in  time  it  becomes  the 
tnc  and  finally  the 
basal  thicket  dies 
The  three  agee  ol  the  Bpruoe  away,  leaving  the  spec- 

imen in  stage  No.  3. 
Astern  of  one  of  the  low  creepers  was  cut  for  ex- 
amination;   it   was   U    inches   through  and   25  years 
old.    Some  of  these  low  mats  of  spruce  have  stems  5 
inches  through.     They  must  be  fully  100  years  old. 

A  tall,  dead,  white  spruce  at  the  camp  was  30  feet 
high  and  11  inches  in  diameter  at  1  feet  from  the 
ground.  Its  190  rin<rs  were  hard  to  count,  they  were 
so  thin.  The  central  ones  were  thickest,  there  he'int; 
1G  to  the  inmost  inch  of  radius;  on  the  outside  to  the 
north  50  rings  made  only  J  an  inch  and  SO  made  one 
inch. 
Numbers  42  and  l.'l.  counting  from  the  outside,  were 

two  or  three  times  as  thick  as  those  outside  of  them 
and  much  thicker  than  the  next  within;  they  hum 
have  represented  years  of  unusual  summers.     No.  '•'.) 

also  was  of  great  size.  What  years  these  corresponded 
with  one  could  not  guess,  as  the  tree  was  a  long  time 
dead. 


218 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Another,  a  dwarf  but  8  feet  high,  was  12  inches 
through.  It  had  205  rings  plus  a  5-inch  hollow  which 
we  reckoned  at  about  100  rings  of  growth;  64  rings 
made  only  If  inches;  the  outmost  of  the  64  was  2 
inches  in  from  the  outside  of  the  wood.  Those  on  the 
outer  two  inches  were  even  smaller,  so  as  to  be  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  to  count.  This  tree  was  at  least 
300  years  old;  our  estimates  varied,  according  to  the 
data,  from  300  to  325  years. 

These,  then,  are  the  facts  for  extremes.  In  Idaho 
or  Connecticut  it  took  about  10  years  to  produce  the 
same  amount  of  timber  as  took  300  years  on  the  edge 
of  the  Arctic  Zone. 


White  spruce 

(Like  a  red  banana) 


Black  spruce 

(Like  a  purple  plum) 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  TREELESS  PLAINS 

On  August  7  wc  left  Camp  Last  Woods.  Our  various 
specimens,  with  a  stock-of  food,  were  secured,  as  usual, 
in  a  cache  high  in  two  trees,  in  this  case  those  already 
used  by  Tyrrell  seven  years  before,  and  guarded  by  the 
magic  necklace  of  cod  hooks. 

By  noon  (in  3  hours)  we  made  fifteen  miles,  camping 
far  beyond  Twin  Buttes.  All  day  long  the  boat  shot 
through  water  crowded  with  drowned  gnats.  These 
were  about  10  to  the  square  inch  near  shore  and  for 
about  twenty  yards  out,  after  that  10  to  the  square 
foot  for  two  hundred  or  three  hundred  yards  still 
farther  from  shore,  and  for  a  quarter  mile  wide  they 
were  10  to  the  square  yard. 

This  morning  the  wind  turned  and  blew  from  the 
south.  At  2  p.  m.  we  saw  a  band  of  some  GO  Caribou 
travelling  southward;  these  were  the  first  seen  for  two 
or  three  days.  After  this  wc  saw  many  odd  ones,  and 
about  3  o'clock  a  band  of  400  or  500.  At  night  we 
camped  on  Casba  River,  having  covered  36  miles  in  7 
hours  and  45  minutes. 

The  place  wc  had  .selected  for  camp  proved  to  be  a 
Caribou  crossing.  As  we  drew  near  a  dozen  of  them 
came  from  the  cast  and  swam  across.  A  second  band 
of  8  now  appeared.  We  gave  chase.  They  spurted; 
so  did  we.    Our  canoe  was  going  over  6  miles  an  hour, 

219 


220  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

and  yet  was  but  slowly  overtaking  them.  They  made 
the  water  foam  around  them.  Their  heads,  necks, 
shoulders,  backs,  rumps,  and  tails  were  out.  I  never 
before  saw  land  animals  move  so  fast  in  the  water.  A 
fawn  in  danger  of  being  left  behind  reared  up  on  its 
mother's  back  and  hung  on  with  forefeet.  The  leader 
was  a  doe  or  a  young  buck,  I  could  not  be  sure  which ; 
the  last  was  a  big  buck.  They  soon  struck  bottom 
and  bounded  along  on  the  shore.  It  was  too  dark  for 
a  picture. 

As  we  were  turning  in  for  the  night  30  Caribou  came 
trotting  and  snorting  through  the  camp.  Half  of 
them  crossed  the  water,  but  the  rest  turned  back  when 
Billy  shouted. 

Later  a  band  of  two  hundred  passed  through  and 
around  our  tents.  In  the  morning  Billy  complained 
that  he  could  not  sleep  all  night  for  Caribou  travelling 
by  his  tent  and  stumbling  over  the  guy  ropes.  From 
this  time  on  we  were  nearly  always  in  sight  of  Caribou, 
small  bands  or  scattering  groups;  one  had  the  feeling 
that  the  whole  land  was  like  this,  on  and  on  and  on, 
unlimited  space  with  unlimited  wild  herds. 

A  year  afterward,  as  I  travelled  in  the  fair  State  of 
Illinois,  famous  for  its  cattle,  I  was  struck  by  the  idea 
that  one  sees  far  more  Caribou  in  the  north  than  cattle 
in  Illinois.  This  State  has  about  56,000  square  miles 
of  land  and  3,000,000  cattle;  the  Arctic  Plains  have 
over  1,000,000  square  miles  of  prairie,  which,  allowing 
for  the  fact  that  I  saw  the  best  of  the  range,  would  set 
the  Caribou  number  at  over  30,000,000.  There  is  a 
good  deal  of  evidence  that  this  is  not  far  from  the  truth. 


£jV   *+ .  s:* 


Tyrrell's  Monument  at   Last  Woods 
The  monument  is  seen  <m  t ho  skyline  ;ii  tin-  right  <>r  tin-  large  In 


Tlu-  falls  of  the  Casta  Kiver 


THE  TREELESS   PLAINS  221 

The  reader  may  recollect  the  original  postulate  of 
my  plan.  Other  travellers  have  gone,  relying  on  the 
abundant  Caribou,  yel  saw  none,  bo  starved.  I  relied 
on  no  Caribou,  I  took  plenty  of  groceries,  and  because 
I  was  independent,  the  Caribou  walked  into  camp 
nearly  every  day,  and  we  lived  largely  on  their  meat, 
saving  our  groceries  for  an  emergency,  which  came 
in  an  unexpected  form.  One  morning  when  we 
were  grown  accustomed  to  this  condition  I  said  to 
Billy: 

"How  is  the  meat0" 

'■Nearly  gone.  We'll  need  another  Caribou  about 
Thursday." 

"You  better  get  one  now  to  be  ready  Thursday.  I 
do  not  like  it  so  steaming  fresh.  See,  there's  a  nice  little 
buck  on  that  hillside." 

"No,  not  him;  why  lie  is  nearly  half  a  mile  off.  I'd 
have  to  pack  him  in.  Let's  wait  till  one  comes  in 
camp." 

Which  we  did,  and  usually  got  our  meat  delivered 
near  the  door. 

Caribou  meat  fresh,  and  well  prepared,  has  no 
superior,  and  the  ideal  way  of  cooking  it  is  of  course  by 
roasting. 

Fried  meat  is  dried  meat, 
Boiled  meat  is  spoiled  meat, 
Roast  meal  is  besl  meat. 

How  was  it  to  be  roasted  at  an  open  fire  without 
continued  vigilance?  By  a  very  simple  contrivance 
that  T  invented  at  the  time  and  now  offer  for  the  use  of 
all  campers. 


222 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


A  wire  held  the  leg;  on  the  top  of  the  wire  was  a 
paddle  or  shingle  of  wood;  above  that,  beyond  the 
heat,  was  a  cord. 

The  wind  gives  the  paddle  a  push;  it  winds  up  the 
cord,  which  then  unwinds  itself.  This  goes  on  without 
fail  and  without  effort,  never  still,  and  the  roast  is 
perfect. 

Thus  we  were  living  on  the  fat  of  many  lands  and  on 
the  choicest  fat  of  this. 

And  what  a  region  it  is  for  pasture.  At  this  place 
it  reminds  one  of  Texas.  Open,  grassy  plains,  sparser 
reaches  of  sand,  long  slopes  of  mesquite,  mesas  dotted 
with  cedars  and  stretches  of  chapparal  and  soap  weed. 
Only,  those  vegetations  here  are  willow,  dwarf  birch, 
tiny  spruce,  and  ledum,  and  the  country  as  a  whole 
is  far  too  green  and  rich.  The  emerald  verdure  of  the 
shore,  in  not  a  few  places,  carried  me  back  to  the  west 
coast  of  Ireland. 


Camp-roaster 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE  UNKNOWN 

The  daily  observations  of  route  and  landmark  I  can 
best  leave  for  record  on  my  maps.  I  had  one  great 
complaint  against  previous  explorers  (except  Tyrrell); 
that  is;  they  left  no  monuments.  Aiming  to  give  no 
ground  of  complaint  against  us,  we  made  monuments 
at  all  important  points.  On  the  night  of  August  8 
we  camped  at  Cairn  Bay  on  the  west  side  of  Casba  Lake, 
so  named  because  of  the  five  remarkable  glacial  cairns 
or  conical  stone-piles  about  it.  On  the  top  of  one  of 
these  I  left  a  monument,  a  six-foot  pillar  of  large  stones. 

On  the  afternoon  of  August  9  we  passed  the  im- 
portant headland  that  I  have  called  "Tyrrell  Point." 
Here  we  jumped  off  his  map  into  the  unknown.  I  had, 
of  course,  the  small  chart  drawn  by  Sir  George  Back 
in  1834,  but  it  was  nastily  made  under  great  dif- 
ficulties, and,  with  a  few  exceptions,  it  seemed  im- 
possible to  recognize  his  landscape  features.  Next 
day  I  explored  the  east  arm  of  Clinton-Colden  and  dis- 
covered the  tributary  that  I  have  called  "Lauricr 
River,"  and  near  its  mouth  made  a  cairn  enclosing  a 
Caribou  antler  with  inscription  "E.  T.  Seton,  10  Aug.. 
1907." 

Future  travellers  on  this  lake  will  find,  as  I  did. 
that  the  Conical  Butte  in  the  eastern  part  is  an  im- 

223 


224  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

portant  landmark.  It  is  a  glacial  dump  about  50 
feet  above  the  general  level,  which  again  is  100  feet 
above  the  water,  visible  and  recognizable  from  nearly 
all  parts  of  the  lake. 

Thus  we  went  on  day  by  day,  sometimes  detained  by 
head  or  heavy  winds,  but  making  great  progress  in  the 
calm,  which  nearly  always  came  in  the  evening;    30 


Ptarmigan  Head  from  the  east 

and  35  miles  a  day  we  went,  led  on  and  stimulated  by 
the  thirst  to  see  and  know.  "I  must  see  what  is  over 
that  ridge,"  "I  must  make  sure  that  this  is  an  island," 
or  "Maybe  from  that  lookout  I  shall  see  Lake  Aylmer, 
or  a  band  of  Caribou,  yes,  or  even  a  band  of  Musk-ox." 
Always  there  was  some  reward,  and  nearly  always  it 
was  a  surprise. 

From  time  to  time  we  came  on  Snowbirds  with 
their  young  broods,  evidently  at  home.  Ptarmigan 
abounded.  Parry's  Groundsquirrel  was  found  at 
nearly  all  points,  including  the  large  islands.  The  Lap- 
longspur  swarmed  everywhere;  their  loud  "chee 
chups"  were  the  first  sounds  to  greet  us  each  time  we 
neared  the  land.  And  out  over  all  the  lake  were  Loons, 
Loons,  Loons.  Four  species  abound  here;  they  cater- 
waul and  yodel  all  day  and  all  night,  each  in  its  own 
particular  speech.  From  time  to  time  a  wild  hyena 
chorus  from  the  tranquil  water  in  the  purple  sunset 
haze  suggested  that  a  pack  of  goblin  hounds  were 
chivying  a  goblin  buck,  but  it  turned  out  always  to 


— 


CJ 


THE  UNKNOWN  225 

be  B  family  of  Red-throated  Loons,  yodelling  their 
inspiring  marching  song. 

One  day  when  at  Gravel  Mountain,  old  Wceso  came 
to  camp  in  evident  fear — "far  off  he  had  seen  a  man.'' 
In  1  his  country  a  man  must  mean  an  Eskimo;  with 
them  the  Indian  has  a  long  feud;  of  them  he  is  in  terror. 
We  never  learned  the  truth;   I  think  he  was  mistaken. 

Once  or  twice  the  long  howl  of  the  White  Wolf 
sounded  from  the  shore,  and  every  day  we  saw  a  few 
Caribou. 

A  greal  many  of  the  single  Caribou  were  on  the  small 
islands.  In  six  cases  that  came  under  close  observa- 
tion the  animal  in  question  had  a  broken  leg.  A 
broken  leg  generally  evidences  recent  inroads  by 
hunters,  but  the  nearest  Indians  were  200  miles  to  the 
south,  and  the  nearest  Eskimo  300  miles  to  the  north. 
There  was  every  reason  to  believe  that  we  were  the 
only  human  beings  in  that  vast  region,  and  certainly 
we  had  broken  no  legs.  Every  Caribou  fired  at  (8) 
had  been  secured  and  used.  There  is  only  one  danger- 
ous large  enemy  common  in  this  country;  that  is  the 
White  Wolf.  And  the  more  I  pondered  it,  the  more  it 
Beemed  sure  that  the  Wolves  had  broken  the  Cari- 
bous' Jegs. 

I  low!  This  is  the  history  of  each  case:  The  Caribou 
18  so  much  swifter  than  the  Wolves  that  the  latter  have 
no  chance  in  open  chase;  they  therefore  adopt  the 
Stratagem  of  a  sneaking  surround  and  a  drive  over  the 
rocks  or  a  precipice,  where  the  Caribou,  if  not  actually 
killed,  is  more  oi1  less  disabled.  In  some  cases  only  a 
leg  is  broken,  and  then  the  Caribou  knows  his  only 


226  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

chance  is  to  reach  the  water.  Here  his  wonderful 
powers  of  swimming  make  him  easily  safe,  so  much  so 
that  the  Wolves  make  no  attempt  to  follow.  The 
crippled  deer  makes  for  some  island  sanctuary,  where 
he  rests  in  peace  till  his  leg  is  healed,  or  it  may  be,  in 
some  cases,  till  the  freezing  of  the  lake  brings  him  again 
into  the  power  of  his  foe. 

These  six,  then,  were  the  cripples  in  hospital,  and 
I  hope  our  respectful  behaviour  did  not  inspire  them 
with  a  dangerously  false  notion  of  humanity. 

On  the  island  that  I  have  called  Owl-and-Hare,  we 
saw  the  first  White  Owl  and  the  first  Arctic  Hare. 

In  this  country  when  you  see  a  tree,  you  know  per- 
fectly well  it  is  not  a  tree;  it's  the  horns  of  a  Caribou. 
An  unusually  large  affair  of  branches  appeared  on  an 
island  in  the  channel  to  Aylmer.  I  landed,  camera  in 
hand;  the  Caribou  was  lying  down  in  the  open,  but 
there  was  a  tuft  of  herbage  30  yards  from  him,  another 
at  20  yards.  I  crawled  to  the  first  and  made  a  snap- 
shot, then,  flat  as  a  rug,  sneaked  my  way  to  the  one  es- 
timated at  20  yards.  The  click  of  the  camera,  alarmed 
the  buck ;  he  rose,  tried  the  wind,  then  lay  down  again, 
giving  me  another  chance.  Having  used  all  the  films, 
I  now  stood  up.  The  Caribou  dashed  away  and  by 
a  slight  limp  showed  that  he  was  in  sanctuary.  The 
20-yard  estimate  proved  too  tang;  it  was  only  16  yards, 
which  put  my  picture  a  little  out  of  focus. 

There  never  was  a  day,  and  rarely  an  hour  of  each 
day,  that  we  did  not  see  several  Caribou.  And  yet 
I  never  failed  to  get  a  thrill  at  each  fresh  one.  "There's 
a  Caribou,"  one  says  with  perennial  intensity  that  is 


The  leap  fbi   life 


THE  UNKNOWN 


227 


evidence  of  perennial  pleasure  in  the  sight.  There 
never  was  one  righted  (hat  did  not  give  US  a  happy  sense 
of  satisfaction— the  thought  "This  is  what  we  came 
for." 


W> 


Feet  of  Groundsquirrel 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
AYLMER  LAKE 

One  of  my  objects  was  to  complete  the  ambiguous 
shore  line  of  Aylmer  Lake.  The  first  task  was  to  find 
the  lake.  So  we  left  the  narrows  and  pushed  on  and 
on,  studying  the  Back  map,  vainly  trying  to  identify 
points,  etc.  Once  or  twice  we  saw  gaps  ahead,  that 
seemed  to  open  into  the  great  inland  sea  of  Aylmer. 
But  each  in  turn  proved  a  mere  bay.  On  August  12 
we  left  the  narrows;  on  the  13th  and  14th  we  journeyed 
westward  seeking  the  open  sea.  On  the  morning  of  the 
15th  we  ran  into  the  final  end  of  the  farthest  bay  we 
could  discover  and  camped  at  the  mouth  of  a  large 
river  entering  in. 

As  usual,  we  landed — Preble,  Billy,  and  I — to  study 
topography,  Weeso  to  get  firewood,  and  curiously 
enough,  there  was  more  firewood  here  than  we  had 
seen  since  leaving  Artillery  Lake.  The  reason  of  this 
appeared  later. 

I  was  utterly  puzzled.  We  had  not  yet  found  Ayl- 
mer Lake,  and  had  discovered  an  important  river  that 
did  not  seem  to  be  down  on  any  map. 

We  went  a  mile  or  two  independently  and  studied  the 
land  from  all  the  high  hills;  evidently  we  had  crossed 
the  only  great  sheet  of  water  in  the  region.  About 
noon,  when  all  had  assembled  at  camp,  I  said:  "Preble, 

228 


Caribou  enjoying  a  breeze 


The  trophy  that  weighed  nine  hundred  pounds 


230  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

why,  isn't  this  Lockhart's  River,  at  the  western  extrem- 
ity of  Aylmer  Lake?"    The  truth  was  dawning  on  me. 

He  also  had  been  getting  light  and  slowly  replied: 
"I  have  forty-nine  reasons  why  it  is,  and  none  at  all 
why  it  isn't." 

There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it  now.  The  great  open 
sea  of  Aylmer  was  a  myth.  Back  never  saw  it;  he 
passed  in  a  fog,  and  put  down  with  a  query  the  vague 
information  given  him  by  the  Indians.  This  little 
irregular  lake,  much  like  Clinton-Colden,  was  Aylmer. 
We  had  covered  its  length  and  were  now  at  its  farthest 
western  end,  at  the  mouth  of  Lockhart's  River. 

How  I  did  wish  that  explorers  would  post  up  the 
names  of  the  streets ;  it  is  almost  as  bad  as  in  New  York 
City.  What  a  lot  of  time  we  might  have  saved  had 
we  known  that  Sandy  Bay  was  in  Back's  three-fingered 
peninsula!  Resolving  to  set  a  good  example  I  left  a 
monument  at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  The  kind  of 
stone  made  it  easy  to  form  a  cross  on  top.  This  will 
protect  it  from  wandering  Indians;  I  do  not  know 
of  anything  that  will  protect  it  from  wandering  white 
men. 


Near  mouth  of  Lockhart  River 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
THE  MUSK-OX 

In  the  afternoon,  Preble,  Bill}-,  and  I  went  northward 
on  foot  to  look  for  Musk-ox.  A  couple  of  miles  from 
camp  I  left  the  others  and  went  more  westerly. 

After  wandering  on  for  an  hour,  disturbing  Long- 
spurs,  Snowbirds,  Pipits,  Groundsquirrel,  and  Cari- 
bou, I  came  on  a  creature  that  gave  me  new  thrills  of 
pleasure.  It  was  only  a  Polar  Hare,  the  second  we  had 
seen;  but  its  very  scarceness  here,  at  least  this  year, 
gave  it  unusual  interest,  and  the  Hare  itself  helped  the 
feeling  by  letting  me  get  near  it  to  study,  sketch,  and 
photograph. 

It  was  exactly  like  a  Prairie  Hare  in  all  its  manners, 
even  to  the  method  of  holding  its  tail  in  running,  and 
this  is  one  of  the  most  marked  and  distinctive  peculiar- 
ities of  the  different  kinds. 

On  the  16th  of  August  we  left  Lockhart's  River, 
knowing  now  that  the  north  arm  of  the  lake  was  our 
way.  We  passed  a  narrow  bay  out  of  which  there 
seemed  to  be  a  current,  then,  on  the  next  high  land, 
noted  a  large  brown  spot  that  moved  rather  quickly 
along.  It  was  undoubtedly  some  animal  with  short 
legs,  whether  a  Wolverine  a  mile  away,  or  a  Musk-ox 
two  miles  away,  was  doubtful.  Now  did  that  canoe 
put  on  its  six-mile  gait,  and  we  soon  knew  for  certain 

231 


232 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


that  the  brown  thing  was  a  Musk-ox.  We  were  not 
yet  in  their  country,  but  here  was  one  of  them  to  meet 
us.  Quickly  we  landed.  Guns  and  cameras  were 
loaded. 

"Don't  fire  till  I  get  some  pictures — unless  he 
charges,"  were  the  orders.  "And  then  we  raced  after 

the  great  creature  gra- 
zing from  us. 

We  had  no  idea 
whether  he  would  run 
away  or  charge,  but 
knew  that  our  plan 
was  to  remain  unseen 
as  long  as  possible. 
So,  hiding  behind  rocks 
when  he  looked  around, 
and  dashing  forward 
when  he  grazed,  we  came  unseen  within  two  hundred 
yards,  and  had  a  good  look  at  the  huge  woolly  ox. 
He  looked  very  much  like  an  ordinary  Buffalo,  the 
same  in  colour,  size,  and  action.  I  never  was  more 
astray  in  my  preconcept  of  any  animal,  for  I  had  ex- 
pected to  see  something  like  a  large  brown  sheep. 

My  first  film  was  fired.  Then,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  that  Musk-ox  took  it  into  his  head  to  travel 
fast  away  from  us,  not  even  stopping  to  graze;  he 
would  soon  have  been  over  a  rocky  ridge.  I  nodded 
to  Preble.  His  rifle  rang;  the  bull  wheeled  sharp 
about  with  an  angry  snort  and  came  toward  us.  His 
head  was  up,  his  eye  blazing,  and  he  looked  like  a  South 
African  Buffalo  and  a  Prairie  Bison  combined,  and 


Arctic  Hare.     August  15,  1907 


The  head  of  the  Musk-ox 


Head  of  hull  Musk-ox-   a  pencil  Btudy 


THE  MUSK-OX 


233 


seemed  to  get  bigger  at  every  moment.  We  were 
safely  hidden  behind  rocks,  some  fifty  yards  from  him 
now,  when  I  got  my  second  snap. 

Realising  the  occasion,  and  knowing  my  men,  I  said : 
"Now,  Preble,  I  am  going  to  walk  up  to  that  bull 
and  get  a  close  picture.    He  will  certainly  charge  me, 


I  O.IK 


If  !*»■ 


Tracks  of  Musk-ox 


as  I  shall  be  nearest  and  in  full  view.  There  is  only 
one  combination  that  can  save  my  life:  that  is  you 
and  that  rifle." 

Then  with  characteristic  loquacity  did  Preble  reply: 
"Go  ahead." 

I  fixed  my  camera  for  twenty  yards  and  quit  the 
sheltering  rock.  The  bull  snorted,  shook  his  head, 
took  aim,  and  just  before  the  precious  moment  was 
to  arrive  a  heavy  shot  behind  me  rang  out,  the  bull 
staggered  and  fell,  shot  through  the  heart,  and  Weeso 
cackled  aloud  in  triumph. 

How  I  cursed  the  meddling  old  fool.  He  had  not 
understood.  He  saw,  as  he  supposed,  "the  Okimow 
in  peril  of  his  life/'and  acted  according  to  the  dictates 
of  his  accursedly  poor  discretion.  Never  again  shall 
he  carry  a  rifle  with  me. 

So  the  last  scene  came  not,  but  we  had  the  trophy 


234 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Musk-ox  tracks,  male. 
August  18,  1907 


of  a  Musk-ox  that  weighed  nine  hundred  pounds  in 
life  and  stood  five  feet  high  at  the  shoulders — a  world's 
record  in  point  of  size. 

Now  we  must  camp  perforce  to  save  the  specimen. 
Measurements,  photos,  sketches,  and  weights  were 
needed,  then  the  skinning  and  preparing  would  be  a 

heavy  task  for  all.  In  the 
many  portages  after- 
wards the  skull  was  part 
of  my  burden ;  its  weight 
was  actually  forty  pounds, 
its  heaviness  was  far 
over  a  hundred. 
What  extraordinary  luck  we  were  having.  It  was 
impossible  in  our  time  limit  to  reach  the  summer  haunt 
of  the  Caribou  on  the  Arctic  Coast,  therefore  the  Cari- 
bou came  to  us  in  their  winter  haunt  on  the  Artillery 
Lake.  We  did  not  expect  to  reach  the  real  Musk-ox 
country  on  the  Lower  Back  River,  so  the  Musk-ox 
sought  us  out  on  Aylmer  Lake.  And  yet  one  more 
piece  of  luck  is  to  be  recorded.  That  night  something 
came  in  our  tent  and  stole  meat.  The  next  night 
Billy  set  a  trap  and  secured  the  thief — an  Arctic  Fox 
in  summer  coat.  We  could  not  expect  to  go  to  him 
in  his  summer  home,  so  he  came  to  us. 

While  the  boys  were  finishing  the  dressing  of  the 
bull's  hide,  I,  remembering  the  current  from  the  last 
bay,  set  out  on  foot  over  the  land  to  learn  the  reason. 
A  couple  of  miles  brought  me  to  a  ridge  from  which  I 
made  the  most  important  geographical  discovery  of 
the  journey.    Stretching  away  before  me  to  the  far 


Head  of  a  young  buck 


An  Arctic  Fox  in  his  Bummer  coal 


THE  MUSK-OX 


235 


dim  north-west  was  a  great,  splendid  river — broad, 
two  hundred  yards  wide  in  places,  but  averaging 
seventy  or  eighty  yards  across — broken  by  white 
rapids  and  waterfalls,  but  blue  deep  in  the  smoother 
stretches  and  emptying  into  the  bay  we  had  noticed. 
So  far  as  the  record  showed,  I  surely  was  the  first 


Left  front  foot  of  male  Musk-ox 


white  man  to  behold  it.  I  went  to  the  margin;  it  was 
stocked  with  large  trout.  I  followed  it  up  a  couple 
of  miles  and  was  filled  with  the  delight  of  discovery. 
"Earl  Grey  River"  I  have  been  privileged  to  name  it, 
after  the  distinguished  statesman,  now  Governor- 
general  of  Canada. 

Then  and  there  I  built  a  cairn,  with  a  record  of  my 
visit,  and  sitting  on  a  hill  with  the  new  river  below 
me,  I  felt  that  there  was  no  longer  any  question  of 
the  expedition's  success.  The  entire  programme  was 
carried  out.  I  had  proved  the  existence  of  abundance 
of  Caribou,  had  explored  Aylmer  Lake,  had  discovered 
two  great  rivers,  and,  finally,  had  reached  the  land  of 
the  Musk-ox  and  secured  a  record-breaker  to  bring 
away.  This  I  felt  was  the  supreme  moment  of  the 
journey. 


236 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Realizing  the  farness  of  my  camp  from  human 
abode — it  could  scarcely  have  been  farther  on  the  con- 
tinent— my  thoughts  flew  back  to  the  dear  ones  at. 
home,  and  my  comrades,  the  men  of  the  Camp-fire 
Club.  I  wondered  if  their  thoughts  were  with  me  at 
the  time.  How  they  must  envy  me  the  chance  of 
launching  into  the  truly  unknown  wilderness,  a  land 
still  marked  on  the  maps  as  "unexplored!"  How  I 
enjoyed  the  thoughts  of  their  sympathy  over  our 
probable  perils  and  hardships,  and  imagined  them 
crowding  around  me  with  hearty  greetings  on  my  safe 
return!  Alas!  for  the  rush  of  a  gr^at  city's  life  and 
crowds,  I  found  out  later  that  these,  my  companions, 
did  not  even  know  that  I  had  been  away  from  New 
York. 


Feet  of  Polar  Hare 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES  AND  MY  FARTHEST 
NORTH 

Camp  Musk-ox  provided  many  other  items  of  inter- 
est besides  the  Great  River,  the  big  Musk-ox,  and  the 
Arctic  Fox.  Here  Preble  secured  a  Groundsquirrel 
with  its  cheek-pouches  full  of  mushrooms  and  shot  a 
cock  Ptarmigan  whose  crop  was  crammed  with  leaves 
of  willow  and  birch,  though  the  ground  was  bright  with 
berries  of  many  kinds.  The  last  evening  we  were 
there  a  White  Wolf  followed  Billy  into  camp,  keeping 
just  beyond  reach  of  his  shotgun;  and,  of  course,  we 
saw  Caribou  every  hour  or  two. 

"All  aboard,"  was  the  cry  on  the  morning  of  August 
19,  and  once  more  we  set  out.  We  reached  the  north 
arm  of  the  lake,  then  turned  north-eastward.  In  the 
evening  I  got  photos  of  a  Polar  Hare,  the  third  we 
had  seen.  The  following  day  (August  20),  at  noon, 
we  camped  in  Sandhill  Bay,  the  north  point  of  Aylmer 
Lake  and  the  northernmost  point  of  our  travels  by 
canoe.  It  seems  that  we  were  the  fourth  party  of  white 
men  to  camp  on  this  spot. 

Captain  George  Back,  1833-34. 
Stewart  and  Anderson,  1855. 
Warburton  Pike,  1S90. 
E.  T.  Seton,  1907. 

237 


238  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

All  day  long  we  had  seen  small  bands  of  Caribou. 
A  score  now  appeared  on  a  sandhill  half  a  mile  away ; 
another  and  another  lone  specimen  trotted  past  our 
camp.  One  of  these  stopped  and  gave  us  an  ex- 
traordinary exhibition  of  agility  in  a 
sort  of  St.  Vitus 's  jig,  jumping,  kick- 
ing, and  shaking  its  head;  I  sus- 
pect the  nose-worms  were  annoying 
it.    While  we  lunched,  a  fawn  came 

Our  Cairn  at  Sand  Hill  j  j  •        1        r  v 

Bay  and  gazed  curiously   irom  a   dis- 

tance of  100  yards.  In  the  after- 
noon Preble  returned  from  a  walk  to  say  that  the 
Caribou  were  visible  in  all  directions,  but  not  in  great 
bands. 

Next  morning  I  was  awakened  by  a  Caribou  clatter- 
ing through  camp  within  30  feet  of  my  tent. 

After  breakfast  we  set  off  on  foot  northward  to  seek 
for  Musk-ox,  keeping  to  the  eastward  of  the  Great 
Fish  River.  The  country  is  rolling,  with  occasional 
rocky  ridges  and  long,  level  meadows  in  the  lowlands, 
practically  all  of  it  would  be  considered  horse  country; 
and  nearly  every  meadow  had  two  or  three  grazing 
Caribou. 

About  noon,  when  six  or  seven  miles  north  of  Ayl- 
mer,  we  halted  for  rest  and  lunch  on  the  top  of  the  long 
ridge  of  glacial  dump  that  lies  to  the  east  of  Great  Fish 
River.  And  now  we  had  a  most  complete  and  spec- 
tacular view  of  the  immense  open  country  that  we 
had  come  so  far  to  see.  It  was  spread  before  us  like  a 
huge,  minute,  and  wonderful  chart,  and  plainly  marked 
with  the  processes  of  its  shaping-time. 


MY  FARTHEST  NORTH  230 

Imagine  a  region  of  low  arehaean  hills,  extending 
one  thousand  miles  each  way,  subjected  for  thousands 
of  years  to  a  continual  succession  of  glaciers,  crushing, 
grinding,  planing,  smoothing,  ripping  up  and  smooth- 
ing again,  carrying  off  whole  ranges  of  broken  hills,  in 
fragments,  to  dump  them  at  some  other  point,  grind 
them  again  while  there,  and  then  push  and  hustle  them 
out  of  that  region  into  some  other  a  few  hundred  miles 
farther;  there  again  to  tumble  and  grind  them  to- 
gether, pack  them  into  the  hollows,  and  dump  them  in 
pyramidal  piles  on  plains  and  uplands.  Imagine  this 
going  on  for  thousands  of  years,  and  we  shall  have  the 
hills  lowered  and  polished,  the  valleys  more  or  less 
filled  with  broken  rocks. 

Now  the  glacial  action  is  succeeded  by  a  time  of 
flood.  For  another  age  all  is  below  water,  dammed  by 
the  northern  ice,  and  icebergs  breaking  from  the  pa- 
rent sheet  carry  bedded  in  them  countless  boulders, 
with  which  they  go  travelling  south  on  the  open  waters. 
As  they  melt  the  boulders  arc  dropped;  hill  and  hollow 
share  equally  in  this  age-long  shower  of  erratics.  Nor 
does  it  cease  till  the  progress  of  the  warmer  day  re- 
moves the  northern  ice-dam,  sets  free  the  flood,  and 
the  region  of  arehaean  rocks  stands  bare  and  dry. 

It  must  have  been  a  dreary  spectacle  at  that  time, 
low,  bare  hills  of  gneiss,  granite,  etc. ;  low  valleys  half- 
filled  with  broken  rock  and  over  everything  a  sprin- 
kling of  erratic  boulders;  no  living  thing  in  sight,  noth- 
ing green,  nothing  growing,  nothing  but  evidence  of 
mighty  power  used  only  to  destroy.  A  waste  of  shat- 
tered granite  spotted  with  hundreds  of  lakes,  thou- 


240  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

sands  of  lakelets,  millions  of  ponds  that  are  marvel- 
lously blue,  clear,  and  lifeless. 

But  a  new  force  is  born  on  the  scene ;  it  attacks  not 
this  hill  or  rock,  or  that  loose  stone,  but  on  every  point 
of  every  stone  and  rock  in  the  vast  domain,  it  appears 
— the  lowest  form  of  lichen,  a  mere  stain  of  gray. 
This  spreads  and  by  its  own  corrosive  power  eats  foot- 
hold on  the  granite;  it  fructifies  in  little  black  velvet 


Bugle  moss  Lichens  Cetraria 

spots.  Then  one  of  lilac  flecks  the  pink  tones  of  the 
granite,  to  help  the  effect.  Soon  another  kind  follows 
— a  pale  olive-green  lichen  that  fruits  in  bumps  of  rich 
brown  velvet;  then  another  branching  like  a  tiny  tree 
— there  is  a  ghostly  kind  like  white  chalk  rubbed  lightly 
on,  and  yet  another  of  small  green  blots,  and  one  like 
a  sprinkling  of  scarlet  snow;  each,  in  turn,  of  a  higher 
and  larger  type,  which  in  due  time  prepares  the  way 
for  mosses  higher  still. 

In  the  less  exposed  places  these  come  forth,  seeking 
the  shade,  searching  for  moisture,  they  form  like  small 
sponges  on  a  coral  reef;  but  growing,  spread  and  change 
to  meet  the  changing  contours  of  the  land  they  win, 
and  with  every  victory  or  upward  move,  adopt  some 
new  refined  intensive  tint  that  is  the  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  their  diverse  inner  excellences  and  their 
triumph.    Ever  evolving  they  spread,  until  there  are 


The  trout   brook  back  of  Tyrrell's  Monument,  Last   Woods 


m 


&  YjS 


Typical  landscape,  Antic  Prairies 


MY  FARTHEST  NORTH  241 

great  living  rugs  of  strange  textures  and  oriental  tones; 
broad  carpets  there  are  of  gray  and  green;  long  luxuri- 
ous lanes,  with  lilac  mufflers  under  foot,  great  beds  of 
a  moss  so  yellow  chrome,  so  spangled  with  intense  red 
sprigs,  that  they  might,  in  clumsy  hands,  look  raw. 
There  are  knee-deep  breadths  of  polytrichum,  which 
blends  in  the  denser  shade  into  a  moss  of  delicate  crim- 
son plush  that  baffles  description. 

Down  between  the  broader  masses  are  bronze-green 
growths  that  run  over  each  slight  dip  and  follow  down 


Lichens  and  moss  forms 

the  rock  crannies  like  streams  of  molten  brass.  Thus 
the  whole  land  is  overlaid  with  a  living,  corrosive 
mantle  of  activities  as  varied  as  its  hues. 

For  ages  these  toil  on,  improving  themselves,  and 
improving  the  country  by  filing  down  the  granite  and 
strewing  the  dust  around  each  rock. 

The  frost,  too,  is  at  work,  breaking  up  the  granite 
lumps;  on  every  ridge  there  is  evidence  of  that — low, 
rounded  piles  of  stone  which  plainly  are  the  remnants 
of  a  boulder,  shattered  by  the  cold.  Thus,  lichen,  moss, 
and  frost  are  toiling  to  grind  the  granite  surfaces  to 
dust. 

Much  of  this  powdered  rock  is  washed  by  rain  into 
the  lakes  and  ponds;    in  time  these  cut  their  exits 


242 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


Saxifrage 


down,  and  drain,  leaving  each  a  broad  mud- flat.    The 
climate  mildens  and  the  south  winds  cease  not,  so  that 
wind-borne  grasses  soon  make  green  mead- 
ows of  the  broad  lake-bottom  flats. 

The  process  climbs  the  hill-slopes;  every 
little  earthy  foothold  for  a  plant  is  claimed 
by  some  new  settler,  until  each  low  hill  is 
covered  to  the  top  with  vegetation  graded 
to  its  soil,  and  where  the  flowering  kinds 
cannot  establish  themselves,  the  lichen  pio- 
neers still  maintain  their  hold.  Rarely,  in 
the  landscape,  now,  is  any  of  the  primitive 
colour  of  the  rocks;  even  the  tall,  straight 
cliffs  of  Aylmer  are  painted  and  frescoed 
with  lichens  that  flame  and  glitter  with 
purple  and  orange,  silver  and  gold.  How  precious  and 
fertile  the  ground  is  made  to  seem,  when  every  square 
foot  of  it  is  an  exquisite  elfin  garden  made  by  the 
little  people,  at  infinite 
cost,  filled  with  dainty 
flowers  and  still  later 
embellished  with  deli- 
cate fruit. 

One  of  the  wonderful 
things  about  these 
children  of  the  Barrens 

is  the  great  size  of  fruit  and  flower  compared  with  the 
plant.    The  cranberry,  the  crowberry,  the  cloudberry, 
etc.,  produce  fruit  any  one  of  which  might  outweigh 
the  herb  itself. 
Nowhere  does  one  get  the  impression  that  these  are 


MY  FARTHEST  NORTH 


243 


Weeds,  as  often  happens  among  the  rank  growths  far- 
ther south.  The  flowers  in  the  wildest  profusion  arc 
generally  low,  always  delicate  and  mostly  in  beds  of  a 
single  species.  The  Lalique  jewelry  was  the  sensation 
of  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1899.  Yet  here  is  Lalique 
renewed  and  changed  for  every  week  in  the  season  and 
lavished  on  every  square  foot  of  a  region 
that  is  a  million  square  miles  in  extent. 

Not  a  cranny  in  a  rock  but  is  seized 
on  at  once  by  the  eager  little  garden- 
ers in  charge  and  made  a  bed  of  bloom, 
as  though  every  inch  of  room  were  price- 
less. And  yet  Nature  here  exemplifies 
the  law  that  our  human  gardeners  are 
only  learning:  "Mass  your  bloom,  to 
gain  effect." 

As  I  stood  on  that  hill,  the  foreground 
was  a  broad  stretch  of  old  gold — the 
shining  sandy  yellow  of  drying  grass — but  it  was 
patched  with  large  scarlet  mats  of  arctous  that 
would  put  i''d  maple  to  its  reddest  blush.  There  was 
no  Highland  heather  here,  but  there  wrcre  whole  hill- 
sides of  purple  red  vaccinium,  whose  leaves  were  but 
a  shade  less  red  than  its  luscious  grape-hued  fruit. 

Here  were  white  ledums  in  roods  and  acre  beds: 
purple  mairanias  by  the  hundred  acres,  and,  framed  in 
lilac  rocks,  were  rich,  rank  meadows  of  golden-green 
by  the  mile. 

There  were  leagues  and  leagues  of  caribou  moss,  pale 
green  or  lilac,  and  a  hundred  others  in  clumps,  that, 
seeing  here  the  glory  of  the  painted  mosses,  were  sim- 


Cloudberry 


244  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

ulating  their  ways,  though  they  themselves  were  the 
not  truly  mosses  at  all. 

I  never  before  saw  such  a  realm  of  exquisite  flowers 
so  exquisitely  displayed,  and  the  effect  at  every  turn 
throughout  the  land  was  colour,  colour,  colour,  to  as 
far  outdo  the  finest  autumn  tints  of  New  England  as 
the  Colorado  Canyon  outdoes  the  Hoosac  Gorge. 
What  Nature  can  do  only  in  October,  elsewhere,  she 
does  here  all  season  through,  as  though  when  she  set 
out  to  paint  the  world  she  began  on  the  Barrens  with 
a  full  palette  and  when  she  reached  the  Tropics  had 
nothing  left  but  green. 

Thus  at  every  step  one  is  wading  through  lush  grass 
or  crushing  prairie  blossoms  and  fruits.  It  is  so  on 
and  on;  in  every  part  of  the  scene,  there  are  but  few 
square  feet  that  do  not  bloom  with  flowers  and  throb 
with  life;  yet  this  is  the  region  called  the  Barren  Lands 
of  the  North. 

And  the  colour  is  an  index  of  its  higher  living  forms, 
for  this  is  the  chosen  home  of  the  Swans  and  Wild 
Geese;  many  of  the  Ducks,  the  Ptarmigan,  the  Lap- 
longspur  and  Snowbunting.  The  blue  lakes  echo  with 
the  wailing  of  the  Gulls  and  the  eerie  magic  calling  of 
the  Loons.  Colonies  of  Lemmings,  Voles,  or  Ground- 
squirrels  are  found  on  every  sunny  slope ;  the  Wolver- 
ine and  the  White  Wolf  find  this  a  land  of  plenty,  for 
on  every  side,  as  I  stood  on  that  high  hill,  were  to  be 
seen  small  groups  of  Caribou. 

This  was  the  land  and  these  the  creatures  I  had 
come  to  see.  This  was  my  Farthest  North  and  this 
was  the  culmination  of  years  of  dreaming.    How  very 


MY  FARTHEST  NORTH 


245 


good  it  seemed  at  the  time,  but  how  different  and  how 
infinitely  more  delicate  and  satisfying  was  the  realisa- 
tion than  any  of  the  day-dreams  founded  on  my  vision 
through  the  eyes  of  other  men. 


iL*+*t 


Horns  of  the  bull  Musk-ox 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

FACING  HOMEWARD 

On  this  hill  we  divided,  Preble  and  Billy  going  north- 
ward; Weeso  and  I  eastward,  all  intent  on  finding  a 
herd  of  Musk-ox;  for  this  was  the  beginning  of  their 
range.  There  was  one  continual  surprise  as  we  jour- 
neyed— the  willows  that  were  mere  twigs  on  Aylmer 
Lake  increased  in  size  and  were  now  plentiful  and  as 
high  as  our  heads,  with  stems  two  or  three  inches 
thick.  This  was  due  partly  to  the  decreased  altitude 
and  partly  to  removal  from  the  broad,  cold  sheet  of 
Aylmer,  which,  with  its  July  ice,  must  tend  to  lower 
the  summer  temperature. 

For  a  long  time  we  tramped  eastward,  among  hills 
and  meadows,  with  Caribou.  Then,  at  length,  turned 
south  again  and,  after  a  20-mile  tramp,  arrived  in  camp 
at  6.35,  having  seen  no  sign  whatever  of  Musk-ox,  al- 
though this  is  the  region  where  Pike  found  them  com- 
mon; on  July  1,  1890,  at  the  little  lake  where  we 
lunched,  his  party  killed  seven  out  of  a  considerable 
band. 

At  9.30  that  night  Preble  and  Billy  returned.  They 
had  been  over  Icy  River,  easily  recognised  by  the  thick 
ice  still  on  its  expansions,  and  on  to  Musk-ox  Lake, 
without  seeing  any  fresh  tracks  of  a  Musk-ox.  As 
they  came  into  camp  a  White  Wolf  sneaked  away. 

246 


FACING   HOMEWARD  247 

Rain  began  at  6  and  continued  a  heavy  storm  all 
night.  In  the  morning  it  was  still  in  full  blast,  so  no 
one  rose  until  9.30,  when  Billy,  starved  out  of  his  warm 
bed,  got  up  to  make  breakfast.  Soon  I  heard  him  call- 
ing: "Mr.  Seton,  here's  a  big  Wolf  in  camp!"  "Bring 
him  in  here,"  I  said.  Then  a  rifle-shot  was  heard,  an- 
other, and  Billy  appeared,  dragging  a  huge  White  Wolf. 
(He  is  now  to  be  seen  in  the  American  Museum.) 

All  that  day  and  the  next  night  the  storm  raged. 
Even  the  presence  of  Caribou  bands  did  not  stimulate 
us  enough  to  face  the  sleet.  Next  day  it  was  dry,  but 
too  windy  to  travel. 

Billy  now  did  something  that  illustrates  at  once  the 
preciousness  of  firewood,  and  the  pluck,  strength,  and 
reliability  of  my  cook.  During  his  recent  tramp  he 
found  a  low,  rocky  hollow  full  of  large,  dead  willows. 
It  was  eight  miles  back;  nevertheless  he  set  out,  of  his 
own  free  will;  tramped  the  eight  miles,  that  wet, 
blustery  day,  and  returned  in  five  and  one-half  hours, 
bearing  on  his  back  a  heavy  load,  over  100  pounds  of 
most  acceptable  firewood.  Sixteen  miles  afoot  for  a 
load  of  wood !  But  it  seemed  well  worth  it  as  we  rev- 
elled in  the  blessed  blaze. 

Next  day  two  interesting  observations  were  made; 
down  by  the  shore  I  found  the  midden-heap  of  a  Lem- 
ming family.  It  contained  about  four  hundred  pellets: 
their  colour  and  dryness,  with  the  absence  of  grass, 
showed  that  they  dated  from  winter. 

In  the  evening  the  four  of  us  witnessed  the  tragic 
end  of  a  Lap-longspur.  Pursued  by  a  fierce  Skua 
Gull,  it  unfortunately  dashed  out  over  the  lake.     In 


248  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

vain  then  it  darted  up  and  down,  here  and  there,  high 
and  low;  the  Skua  followed  even  more  quickly.  A 
second  Skua  came  flying  to  help,  but  was  not  needed. 
With  a  falcon-like  swoop,  the  pirate  seized  the  Long- 
spur  in  his  bill  and  bore  it  away  to  be  devoured  at  the 
nearest  perch. 

At  7.30  a.  m.,  August  24,  1907,  surrounded  by  scat- 
tering Caribou,  we  pushed  off  from  our  camp  at  Sand 
Hill  Bay  and  began  the  return  journey. 

At  Wolf-den  Point  we  discovered  a  large  and  ancient 
wolf-den  in  the  rocks ;  also  abundance  of  winter  sign  of 

Musk-ox.    That  day 
we  made  forty  miles 
and  camped  for  the 
Tha-aa-koie  from  south  night    on    the    Sand 

Hill  Mountain  in  Tha- 
na-koie,  the  channel  that  joins  Aylmer  and  Clint on- 
Colden.  Here  we  were  detained  by  high  winds  until 
the  28th. 

This  island  is  a  favourite  Caribou  crossing,  and  Billy 
and  Weeso  had  pitched  their  tents  right  on  the  place 
selected  by  the  Caribou  for  their  highway.  Next  day, 
while  scanning  the  country  from  the  top  of  the  mount, 
I  saw  three  Caribou  trotting  along.  They  swam  the 
river  and  came  toward  me.  As  Billy  and  Weeso  were 
in  their  tents  having  an  afternoon  nap,  I  thought  it 
would  be  a  good  joke  to  stampede  the  Caribou  on  top 
of  them,  so  waited  behind  a  rock,  intending  to  jump 
out  as  soon  as  they  were  past  me.  They  followed  the 
main  trail  at  a  trot,  and  I  leaped  out  with  "horrid  yells  " 
when  they  passed  my  rock,  but  now  the  unexpected 


FACING  HOMEWARD  249 

happened.  "In  case  of  doubt  take  to  the  water"  is 
Caribou  wisdom,  so,  instead  of  dashing  madly  into  the 
tents,  they  made  three  desperate  down  leaps  and 
plunged  into  the  deep  water,  then  calmly  swam  for 
the  other  shore,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

This  island  proved  a  good  place  for  small  mammals. 
Here  Preble  got  our  first  specimen  of  the  White  Lem- 
ming. Large  islands  usually  prove  better  for  small 
mammals  than  the  mainland.  They  have  the  same 
conditions  to  support  life,  but  being  moated  by  the 
water  are  usually  without  the  larger  predatory  quad- 
rupeds. 

The  great  central  inland  of  Clinton-Colden  proved 
the  best  place  of  all  for  Groundsquirrels.  Here  we 
actually  found  them  in  colonies. 

On  the  29th  and  30th  we  paddled  and  surveyed  with- 
out ceasing  and  camped  beyond  the  rapid  at  the  exit 
of  Clinton-Colden.  The  next  afternoon  we  made  the 
exit  rapids  of  Casba  Lake.  Preble  was  preparing  to 
portage  them,  but  asked  Weeso,  "Can  we  run  them?" 

Weeso  landed,  walked  to  a  view-point,  took  a  squint- 
ing look  and  said,  "Ugh!"  (Yes).  Preble  rejoined, 
"All  right!  If  he  says  he  can,  he  surely  can.  That's 
the  Indian  of  it.  A  white  man  takes  risks;  an  Indian 
will  not;  if  it  is  risky  he'll  go  around."  So  we  ran 
the  rapids  in  safety. 

Lighter  each  day,  as  the  food  was  consumed,  our 
elegant  canoe  went  faster.  When  not  detained  by 
heavy  seas  30  or  40  miles  a  day  was  our  journe3T.  On 
August  30  we  made  our  last  6  miles  in  one  hour  and 
6|  minutes.    On  September  2,  in  spite  of  head- winds, 


250 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


we  made  36  miles  in  8J  hours  and  in  the  evening  we 
skimmed  over  the  glassy  surface  of  Artillery  Lake, 
among  its  many  beautiful  islands  and  once  more  landed 
at  our  old  ground — the  camp  in  the  Last  Woods. 


Monument  on  Tha-na-Koie 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

THE   FIRST  WOODS 

How  shall  I  set  forth  the  feelings  it  stirred?  None  but 
the  shipwrecked  sailor,  long  drifting  on  the  open  sea, 
but  come  at  last  to  land,  can  fully  know  the  thrill  it 
gave  us.  We  were  like  starving  Indians  suddenly  sur- 
rounded by  Caribou.  Wood — timber — fuel — galore! 
It  was  hard  to  realise — but  there  it  was,  all  about  us, 
and  in  the  morning  we  were  awakened  by  the  sweet, 
sweet,  home-like  song  of  the  Robins  in  the  trees, 
singing  their  "Cheerup,  cheerily"  just  as  they  do  it  in 
Ontario  and  Connecticut.  Our  cache  was  all  right; 
so  our  stock  of  luxuries  was  replenished.  We  now  had 
unlimited  food  as  well  as  unlimited  firewood;  what 
more  could  any  one  ask?  Yet  there  was  more.  The 
weather  was  lovely;  perfect  summer  days,  and  the 
mosquitoes  were  gone,  yes,  now  actually  nets  and  fly- 
bars  were  discarded  for  good.  On  every  side  was  ani- 
mal life  in  abundance;  the  shimmering  lake  with  its 
Loons  and  islands  would  fit  exactly  the  Indian's  dream 
of  the  heavenly  hunting-grounds.  These  were  the 
happy  halcyon  days  of  the  trip,  and  we  stayed  a  week 
to  rest  and  revel  in  the  joys  about  us. 

In  the  morning  I  took  a  long  walk  over  the  familiar 
hills ;  the  various  skeletons  we  had  left  were  picked  bare, 
evidently  by  Gulls  and  Ravens,  as  no  bones  were  broken 
and  even  the  sinews  were  left.    There  were  many  fresh 

251 


252  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

tracks  of  single  Caribou  going  here  and  there,  but  no 
trails  of  large  bands.  I  sent  Weeso  off  to  the  Indian 
village,  two  miles  south.  He  returned  to  say  that  it 
was  deserted  and  that,  therefore,  the  folk  had  gone 
after  the  Caribou,  which  doubtless  were  now  in  the 
woods  south  of  Artillery  Lake.  Again  the  old  man  was 
wholly  astray  in  his  Caribou  forecast. 

That  night  there  was  a  sharp  frost;  the  first  we  had 
had.  It  made  nearly  half  an  inch  of  ice  in  all  kettles. 
Why  is  ice  always  thickest  on  the  kettles?  No  doubt 
because  they  hold  a  small  body  of  very  still  water  sur- 
rounded by  highly  conductive  metal. 

Billy  went  'Ho  market"  yesterday,  killing  a  nice, 
fat  little  Caribou.  This  morning  on  returning  to  bring 
in  the  rest  of  the  meat  we  found  that  a  Wolverine  had 
been  there  and  lugged  the  most  of  it  away.  The 
tracks  show  that  it  was  an  old  one  accompanied  by  one 
or  maybe  two  young  ones.  We  followed  them  some 
distance  but  lost  all  trace  in  a  long  range  of  rocks. 

The  Wolverine  is  one  of  the  tj^pical  animals  of  the 
far  North.  It  has  an  unenviable  reputation  for  being 
the  greatest  plague  that  the  hunter  knows.  Its  habit 
of  following  to  destroy  all  traps  for  the  sake  of  the  bait 
is  the  prime  cause  of  man's  hatred,  and  its  cleverness 
in  eluding  his  efforts  at  retaliation  give  it  still  more 
importance. 

It  is,  above  all,  the  dreaded  enemy  of  a  cache,  and 
as  already  seen,  we  took  the  extra  precaution  of  put- 
ting our  caches  up  trees  that  were  protected  by  a 
necklace  of  fishhooks.  Most  Northern  travellers  have 
regaled  us  with  tales  of  this  animal's  diabolical  clever- 


A  Wolverine  and  her  cubs  stealing  <>ur  Caribou  meal 


THE   FIRST   WOODS  253 

ness  and  wickedness.  If  is  fair  to  say  that  the  malice, 
at  least,  is  not  proven;  and  there  is  a  good  side  to 
Wolverine  character  that  should  be  emphasized;  that 

is,  its  nearly  ideal  family  life,  coupled  with  the  heroic 
bravery  of  the  mother.  I  say  "nearly"  ideal,  for  so 
far  as  I  can  learn,  the  father  does  not  assist  in  rear- 
ing the  young.  But  all  observers  agree  that  the 
mother  is  absolutely  fearless  and  devoted.  More 
than  one  of  the  hunters  have  assured  me  that  it  is 
safer  to  molest  a  mother  Bear  than  a  mother  Wolver- 
ine when  accompanied  by  the  cubs. 

Bellalise,  a  half-breed  of  Chipewyan,  told  me  that 
twice  he  had  found  Wolverine  dens,  and  been  seriously 
endangered  by  the  mother.  The  first  was  in  mid- 
May,  1904,  near  Fond  du  Lac,  north  side  of  Lake 
Athabaska.  He  went  out  with  an  Indian  to  bring 
in  a  skiff  left  some  miles  off  on  the  shore.  He  had  no 
gun,  and  was  surprised  by  coming  on  an  old  Wolverine 
in  a  slight  hollow  under  the  boughs  of  a  green  spruce. 
She  rushed  at  him,  showing  all  her  teeth,  her  eyes 
shining  blue,  and  uttering  sounds  like  those  of  a  Bear. 
The  Indian  boy  hit  her  once  with  a  stick,  then  swung 
himself  out  of  danger  up  a  tree.  Bellalise  ran  off  after 
getting  sight  of  the  young  ones;  they  were  four  in 
number,  about  the  size  of  a  Muskrat,  and  pure  white. 
Their  eyes  were  open.  The  nest  was  just  such  as  a 
dog  might  make,  only  six  inches  deep  and  lined  with  a 
little  dry  grass.  Scattered  around  were  bones  and  fur, 
chiefly  of  Rabbits. 

The  second  occasion  was  in  1005,  within  three  miles 
of  Chipewyan,  and,  as  before,  about  the  middle  of  May. 


254 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


^^SSSsS&x 


Foot  of  a  Barren-Ground  Caribou 


The  nest  was  much  like  the  first  one;  the  mother  saw 
him  coming,  and  charged  furiously,  uttering  a  sort  of 
coughing.  He  shot  her  dead;  then  captured  the 
young  and  examined  the  nest;  there  were  three 
young  this  time.    They  were  white  like  the  others. 

Not  far  from  this  camp,  we  found  a  remarkable 
midden-yard  of  Lemmings.    It  was  about  10  feet  by 

40  feet,  the  ground 
within  the  limits  was 
thickly  strewn  with 
pellets,  at  the  rate  of 
14  to  the  square  inch, 
but  nowhere  were 
they  piled  up.  At 
this  reckoning,  there 
were  over  800,000,  but  there  were  also  many  outside, 
which  probably  raised  the  number  to  1,000,000.  Each 
pellet  was  long,  brown,  dry,  and  curved,  i.e.,  the  winter 
type.  The  place,  a  high,  dry,  very  sheltered  hollow, 
was  evidently  the  winter  range  of  a  colony  of  Lem- 
mings that  in  summer  went  elsewhere,  I  suppose  to 
lower,  damper  grounds. 

After  sunset,  September  5,  a  bunch  of  three  or 
four  Caribou  trotted  past  the  tents  between  us  and  the 
Lake,  200  yards  from  us;  Billy  went  after  them,  as, 
thanks  to  the  Wolverine,  we  were  out  of  meat,  and  at 
one  shot  secured  a  fine  young  buck. 

His  last  winter's  coat  was  all  shed  now,  his  ears 
were  turning  white  and  the  white  areas  were  expand- 
ing on  feet  and  buttocks;  his  belly  was  pure  white. 
On  his  back  and  rump,  chiefly  the  latter,  were  the 


THE  FIRST   WOODS  255 

scars  of  121  bots.    I  could  not  see  that  they  affected 
the  skin  or  hair  in  the  least. 

Although  all  of  these  Caribou  seem  to  have  the  nor- 
mal foot-click,  Preble  and  I  worked  in  vain  with  the  feet 
of  this  dead  one  to  make  the  sound;  we  could  not  by  any 
combination  of  movement,  or  weight  or  simulation  of 
natural  conditions,  produce  anything  like  a  "click." 

That  same  day,  as  we  sat  on  a  hill,  a  cow  Caribou 
came  curiously  toward  us.  At  100  yards  she  circled 
slowly,  gazing  till  she  got  the  wind  150  yards  to  one 
side,  then  up  went  her  tail  and  off  she  trotted  a  quarter 
of  a  mile,  but  again  drew  nearer,  then  circled  as  before 
till  a  second  time  the  wind  warned  her  to  flee.  This 
she  did  three  or  four  times  before  trotting  away;  the 
habit  is  often  seen. 

Next  afternoon,  Billy  and  I  saw  a  very  large  buck ; 
his  neck  was  much  swollen,  his  beard  flowing  and  nearly 
white.  He  sighted  us  afar,  and  worked  north-west 
away  from  us,  in  no  great  alarm.  I  got  out  of  sight, 
ran  a  mile  and  a  half,  headed  him  off,  then  came  on 
him  from  the  north,  but  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do  by 
running  and  yelling,  he  and  his  band  (3  cows  with  3 
calves)  rushed  galloping  between  me  and  the  lake,  75 
yards  away,  lie  was  too  foxy  to  be  driven  back  into 
that  suspicious  neighbourhood. 

Thus  we  had  fine  opportunities  for  studying  wild  life. 
In  all  these  days  there  was  only  one  unfulfilled  desire: 
I  had  not  seen  the  great  herd  of  Caribou  returning  to 
the  woods  that  are  their  winter  range. 

This  herd  is  said  to  rival  in  numbers  the  Buffalo 
herds  of  story,  to  reach  farther  than  the  eye  can  see, 


25G 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


and  to  be  days  in  passing  a  given  point ;  but  it  is  utterly 
erratic.  It  might  arrive  in  early  September.  It  was 
not  sure  to  arrive  until  late  October,  when  the  winter 
had  begun.  This  year  all  the  indications  were  that  it 
would  be  late.  If  we  were  to  wait  for  it,  it  would  mean 
going  out  on  the  ice.  For  this  we  were  wholly  unpre- 
pared. There  were  no  means  of  getting  the  necessary 
dogs,  sleds,  and  fur  garments;  my  business  was  calling 
me  back  to  the  East.  It  was  useless  to  discuss  the 
matter,  decision  was  forced  on  me.  Therefore,  without 
having  seen  that  great  sight,  one  of  the  world's  tremen- 
dous zoological  spectacles — the  march  in  one  body  of 
millions  of  Caribou — I  reluctantly  gave  the  order  to 
start.  On  September  8  we  launched  the  Ann  Seton 
on  her  homeward  voyage  of  1,200  upstream  miles. 


Front  left  foot  of  caribou  showing      Food  of  groundsquirrels.    Antlers 
position  of  backward  and  forward  of  Caribou 

stroke  when  swimming 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

FAREWELL  TO  THE   CARIBOU 

All  along  the  shore  of  Artillery  Lake  we  saw  small 
groups  of  Caribou.  They  were  now  in  fine  coat;  the 
manes  on  the  males  were  long  and  white  and  we  saw 
two  with  cleaned  antlers;  in  one  these  were  of  a  brill- 
iant red,  which  I  suppose  meant  that  they  were  cleaned 
that  day  and  still  blood}'. 

We  arrived  at  the  south  end  of  Artillery  Lake  that 
night,  and  were  now  again  in  the  continuous  woods — 
what  spindly  little  stuff  it  looked  when  we  left  it ;  what 
superb  forest  it  looked  now — and  here  we  bade  good- 
bye to  the  prairies  and  their  Caribou. 

Now,  therefore,  I  shall  briefly  summarise  the  informa- 
tion I  gained  about  this  notable  creature.  The  species 
ranges  over  all  the  treeless  plains  and  islands  of  Arctic 
America.  While  the  great  body  is  migratory,  there  are 
scattered  individuals  in  all  parts  at  all  seasons.  The 
main  body  winters  in  the  sheltered  southern  third  of 
the  range,  to  avoid  the  storms,  and  moves  north  in  the 
late  spring,  to  avoid  the  plagues  of  deer-flies  and  mos- 
quitoes. The  former  are  found  chiefly  in  the  woods, 
the  latter  arc  bad  everywhere;  by  travelling  against 
the  wind  a  certain  measure  of  relief  is  secured,  northerly 
winds  prevail,  so  the  Caribou  are  kept  travelling  north- 
ward. When  there  is  no  wind,  the  instinctive  habit 
of  migration  doubtless  directs  the  general  movement. 

257 


258  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

How  are  we  to  form  an  idea  of  their  numbers?  The 
only  way  seems  to  be  by  watching  the  great  migration 
to  its  winter  range.  For  the  reasons  already  given  this 
was  impossible  in  my  case,  therefore,  I  array  some  of 
the  known  facts  that  will  evidence  the  size  of  the  herd. 

Warburton  Pike,  who  saw  them  at  Mackay  Lake, 
October  20,  1889,  says:  "I  cannot  believe  that  the 
herds  [of  Buffalo]  on  the  prairie  ever  surpassed  in  size 
La  Foule  (the  throng)  of  the  Caribou.  La  Foule  had 
really  come,  and  during  its  passage  of  six  days  I  was 
able  to  realize  what  an  extraordinary  number  of  these 
animals  still  roam  the  Barren  Grounds." 

From  figures  and  facts  given  me  by  H.  T.  Munn,  of 
Brandon,  Manitoba,  I  reckon  that  in  three  weeks  fol- 
lowing July  25,  1892,  he  saw  at  Artillery  Lake  (N.  lati- 
tude 62^°,  W.  Long.  112°)  not  less  than  2,000,000  Car- 
ibou travelling  southward;  he  calls  this  merely  the 
advance  guard  of  the  great  herd.  Colonel  Jones  (Buf- 
falo Jones),  who  saw  the  herd  in  October  at  Clin- 
ton-Colden,  has  given  me  personally  a  description  that 
furnishes  the  basis  for  an  interesting  calculation  of  their 
numbers. 

He  stood  on  a  hill  in  the  middle  of  the  passing  throng, 
with  a  clear  view  ten  miles  each  way  and  it  was  one 
army  of  Caribou.  How  much  further  they  spread,  he 
did  not  know.  Sometimes  they  were  bunched,  so  that 
a  hundred  were  on  a  space  one  hundred  feet  square; 
but  often  there  would  be  spaces  equally  large  without 
any.  They  averaged  at  least  one  hundred  Caribou  to 
the  acre;  and  they  passed  him  at  the  rate  of  about 
three  miles  an  hour.    He  did  not  know  how  long  they 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  CARIBOU 


259 


were  in  passing  this  point;  but  at  another  place  they 
were  four  days,  and  travelled  day  and  night.  The 
whole  world  seemed  a  moving  mass  of  Caribou.  He 
got  the  impression  at  last  that  they  were  standing  still 
and  he  was  on  a  rocky  hill  that  was  rapidly  running 
through  their  hosts. 

Even  halving  these  figures,  to  keep  on  the  safe  side, 
we  find  that  the  number  of  Caribou  in  this  army  was 
over  25,000,000.  Yet  it  is  possible  that  there  are  sev- 
eral such  armies.  In  which  ease  they  must  indeed  out- 
number the  Buffalo  in  their  palmiest  epoch.  So  much 
for  their  abundance  to-day.  To  what  extent  are  they 
being  destroyed?  I  looked  into  this  question  with  care. 

First,  of  the  Indian  destruction.  In  1812  the  Chipc- 
wyan  population,  according  to  Kennicott,  was  7,500. 
Thomas  Anderson,  of  Fort  Smith,  showed  me  a  census 
of  the  Mackenzie  River  Indians,  which  put  them  at 
3,961  in  1884.     Official  returns  of  the  Canadian  govern- 


;  give  them  in  rJU 

o  at 

6,4 

til, 

as 

tolJc 

)WS 

Peel 

400 

Arctic  Red  River 

100 

Good  Hope. 
Norman 

500 
300 

Wrigley 

100 

Simpson 

300 

Rae 

800 

Liard  and  Nelson 

400 

Yello\vkniv<\s 

151 

Dogribs 

123 

Chipewyans 

123 

Hay  River  . 

114 

3,411 


2G0  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

Of  these  the  Hay  River  and  Liard  Indians,  number- 
ing about  500,  can  scarcely  be  considered  Caribou- 
eaters,  so  that  the  Indian  population  feeding  on  Cari- 
bou to-day  is  about  3,000,  less  than  half  what  it  was 
100  years  ago. 

Of  these  not  more  than  600  are  hunters.  The  traders 
generally  agree  that  the  average  annual  kill  of  Caribou 
is  about  10  or  20  per  man,  not  more.  When  George 
Sanderson,  of  Fort  Resolution,  got  75  one  year,  it  was 
the  talk  of  the  country ;  many  got  none.  Thus  20,000 
per  annum  killed  by  the  Indians  is  a  liberal  estimate 
to-day. 

There  has  been  so  much  talk  about  destruction  by 
whalers  that  I  was  careful  to  gather  all  available  in- 
formation. Several  travellers  who  had  visited  Her- 
shell  Island  told  me  that  four  is  the  usual  number 
of  whalers  that  winter  in  the  north-east  of  Point  Bar- 
row. Sometimes,  but  rarely,  the  number  is  increased 
to  eight  or  ten,  never  more.  They  buy  what  Caribou 
they  can  from  Eskimo,  sometimes  aggregating  300  or 
400  carcasses  in  a  winter,  and  would  use  more  if  they 
could  get  them,  but  they  cannot,  as  the  Caribou  herds 
are  then  far  south.  This,  E.  Sprake  Jones,  William 
Hay,  and  others,  are  sure  represents  fairly  the  annual 
destruction  by  whalers  on  the  north  coast.  Only  one 
or  two  vessels  of  this  traffic  go  into  Hudson's  Bay,  and 
these  with  those  of  Hershell  are  all  that  touch  Caribou 
country,  so  that  the  total  destruction  by  whalers  must 
be  under  1,000  head  per  annum. 

The  Eskimo  kill  for  their  own  use.  Franz  Boas 
("Handbook  of  American  Indians")  gives  the  number 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  CARIBOU         261 

of  Eskimo  in  the  central  region  at  1,100.  Of  these 
not  more  than  300  are  hunters.  If  we  allow  their  de- 
struction to  equal  that  of  the  600  Indians,  it  is  liberal, 
giving  a  total  of  40,000  Caribou  killed  by  native  hunt- 
ers. As  the  whites  rarely  enter  the  region,  this  is 
practically  all  the  destruction  by  man.  The  annual 
increase  of  30,000,000  Caribou  must  be  several  mil- 
lions and  would  so  far  overbalance  the  hunter  toll 
that  the  latter  cannot  make  any  permanent  difference. 

There  is,  moreover,  good  evidence  that  the  native 
destruction  has  diminished.  As  already  seen,  the 
tribes  which  hunt  the  Barren-Ground  Caribou,  number 
less  than  one-half  of  what  they  did  100  years  ago. 
Since  then,  they  have  learned  to  use  the  rifle,  and  this, 
I  am  assured  by  all  the  traders,  has  lessened  the  des- 
truction. By  the  old  method,  with  the  spear  in  the 
water,  or  in  the  pound  trap,  one  native  might  kill  100 
Caribou  in  one  day,  during  the  migrations;  but  these 
methods  called  for  woodcraft  and  were  very  laborious. 
The  rifle,  being  much  easier,  has  displaced  the  spear; 
but  there  is  a  limit  to  its  destruction,  especially  with 
cartridges  at  five  cents  to  seven  cents  each,  and,  as 
already  seen,  the  hunters  do  not  average  20  Caribou 
each  in  a  year. 

Thus,  all  the  known  facts  point  to  a  greatly  dimin- 
ished slaughter  to-day  when  compared  with  that  of  100 
years  ago.  This,  then,  is  my  summary  of  the  Barren- 
Ground  Caribou  between  the  Mackenzie  River  and 
Hudson's  Bay.  They  number  over  30,000,000,  and 
may  be  double  of  that.  They  are  in  primitive  condi- 
tions and  probably  never  more  numerous  than  now. 


262 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


The  native  destruction  is  less  now  than  formerly  and 
never  did  make  any  perceptible  difference. 

Finally,  the  matter  has  by  no  means  escaped  the  at- 
tention of  the  wide-awake  Canadian  government  rep- 
resented by  the  Minister  of  the  Interior  and  the  Royal 
North-west  Mounted  Police.  It  could  not  be  in  better 
hands;  and  there  is  no  reason  to  fear  in  any  degree 
a  repetition  of  the  Buffalo  slaughter  that  disgraced 
the  plains  of  the  United  States. 


Barren-Ground  Caribou 

Old  Fort  Reliance  in  background,  September  13.  1907 


CHAPTER  XL 

OLD  FORT  RELIANCE  TO  FORT  RESOLUTION 

All  night  the  storm  of  rain  and  snow  raged  around  our 
camp  on  the  south  shore  of  Artillery  Lake,  1ml  we  were 
up  and  away  in  the  morning  in  spite  of  it.  That  day 
we  covered  five  portages  (they  took  two  days  in  coming 
out).  Next  day  we  crossed  Lake  Harry  and  camped 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  farther  on  the  long  portage. 
Next  day,  September  11,  we  camped  (still  in  storm) 
at  the  Lobstick  Landing  of  Great  Slave  Lake.  How 
tropically  rich  all  this  vegetation  looked  after  the 
"Land  of  little  sticks."  Ilain  we  could  face,  but  high 
winds  on  the  big  water  were  dangerous,  so  we  were 
storm-bound  until  September  14,  when  we  put  off, 
and  in  two  hours  were  at  old  Fort  Reliance,  the  winter 
quarters  of  Sir  George  Back  in  1833-4.  In  the  Far 
North  the  word  "old"  means  " abandoned"  and  the 
fort,  abandoned  long  ago,  had  disappeared,  except  the 
great  stone  chimneys.  Around  one  of  these  that  in- 
trepid explorer  and  hunter — Buffalo  Jones — had  built  a 
shanty  in  1897.  There  it  stood  in  fairly  good  condit  ion, 
a  welcome  shelter  from  the  storm  which  now  set  in  with 
redoubled  fury.  We  soon  had  the  big  fireplace  aglow 
and  sitting  there  in  comfort  that  we  owed  to  him.  and 
surrounded  by  the  skeletons  of  the  Wolves  that  he  had 
killed  about  the  door  in  that  fierce  winter  time,  we 

263 


264 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


drank  in  hot  and  copious  tea  the  toast:  "Long  life 
and  prosperity  to  our  host  so  far  away,  the  brave  old 
hunter,  Buffalo  Jones." 

The  woods  were  beautiful  and  abounded  with  life, 
and  the  three  days  we  spent  there  were  profitably 
devoted    to    collecting,    but    on    September  17  we 


Old  Fort  Reliance  from  north 


crossed  the  bay,  made  the  short  portage,  and  at  night 
camped  32  miles  away,  on  the  home  track. 

Next  morning  we  found  a  camp  of  Indians  down  to 
the  last  of  their  food.  We  supplied  them  with  flour 
and  tobacco.  They  said  that  no  Caribou  had  come  to 
the  Lake,  showing  how  erratic  is  the  great  migration. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  across  another  band  in 
still  harder  luck.  They  had  nothing  whatever  but 
the  precarious  catch  of  the  nets,  and  this  was  the  off- 
season. Again  we  supplied  them,  and  these  were 
among  the  unexpected  emergencies  for  which  our  care- 
fully guarded  supplies  came  in. 

In  spite  of  choppy  seas  we  made  from  30  to  35  miles 
a  day,  and  camped  on  Tal-thel-lay  the  evening  of 
September  20.  That  night  as  I  sat  by  the  fire  the 
moon  rose  in  a  clear  sky  and  as  I  gazed  on  her  calm 
bright  disc  something  seemed  to  tell  me  that  at  that 


FORTKKLIAWKTo  FORT  RESOLUTION  265 


Old  Fort  Reliance  from  east 


moment  the  dear  ones  far  away  were  also  looking  on 
that    radiant    face. 

On  the  21st  we  were  storm-bound  at  Et-then  Island, 
but  utilised  the  time  collecting.  I  gathered  a  lot  of 
roots  of  Pulsa- 
tilla  and  Ca- 
lypso.  Here 
Bill}'  amused 
us  by  catching 
Wiskajons  in 
an  old-fashioned  springle  that  dated  from  the  days 
when  guns  were  unknown;  but  the  captured  birds 
came  back  fearlessly  each  time  after  being  released. 

All  that  day  we  had  to  lie  about  camp,  keeping  un- 
der cover  on  account  of  the  rain.  It  was  dreary  work 
listening  to  the  surf  ceaselessly  pounding  the  shore 
and  realising  that  all  these  precious  hours  were  needed 

to  bring  us  to  Fort 
Resolution,  where  the 
steamer  was  to  meet 
us  on  the  25th. 

On  the  23d  it  was 
calmer  and  we  got 
away  in  the  gray  dawn 
at  5.45.  We  were  now  in  Weeso's  country,  and  yet  he 
ran  us  into  a  singular  pocket  that  I  have  called  Woeso's 
Trap — a  straight  glacial  groove  a  mile  long  that  came 
to  a  sudden  end  and  we  had  to  go  back  that  mile. 

The  old  man  was  much  mortified  over  his  blunder, 
but  he  did  not  feel  half  so  badly  about  it  as  I  did,  for 
every  hour  was  precious  now. 


Old  Fort  Reliance  from  south 


I 


206  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

What  a  delight  it  was  to  feel  our  canoe  skimming 

along  under  the  four  paddles.    Three  times  as  fast  we 

trav  lied  now  as  when  we  came  out  with  the  bigger 

boat;   5|  miles  an  hour  was  frequently  our  rate  and 

when  we  camped  that 

r  , , — n***   -1w**4ft  night  we  had  covered 

,xyds •  -.  ra  47  miles  since  dawn. 

***  GO  On     Kahdinouay 

we  camped  and  again 

a   storm   arose    to 

%ru!™  pound    and    bluster 

all  night.    In  spite  of 

a   choppy  sea  next 

L§  £cht*htj  stt^     clay  we  reached  the 

>n". wit ---     i^  small  isiand  be_ 

Plan  of  old  Fort  Reliance  fore  the    final    cross- 

ing; and  here,  per- 
force, we  stayed  to  await  a  calmer  sea.  Later  we 
heard  that  during  this  very  storm  a  canoe-load  of 
Indians  attempted  the  crossing  and  upset ;  none  were 
swimmers,  all  were  drowned. 

We  were  not  the  only  migrants  hurrying  southward. 
Here  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  saw  Wild  Swans,  six 
in  a  flock.  They  were  heading  southward  and  flew 
not  in  very  orderly  array,  but  ever  changing,  occasion- 
ally forming  the  triangle  after  the  manner  of  Geese. 
They  differ  from  Geese  in  flapping  more  slowly,  from 
White  Cranes  in  flapping  faster,  and  seemed  to  vibrate 
only  the  tips  of  the  wings.  This  was  on  the  23d.  Next 
day  we  saw  another  flock  of  seven;  I  suppose  that  in 
each  case  it  was  the  old  one  and  young  of  the  year. 


FORT  RELIANCE  TO  FORT  RESOLUTION  2G7 


As  they  flew  they  uttered  three  different  notes:  a  deep 
horn-like  "too"  or  "coo,"  a  higher  pitched  "coo"  and 
a  warble-like  "tootle-tootle"  or  sometimes  simply  "tee- 
tee."  Maybe  the  last  did  not  come  from  the  Swans, 
but  no  other  birds  were  near;  I  suppose  that  these 
three  styles  of 
notes  came  from 
male,  female, 
and  young. 

Next  morning 
7  flocks  of  Swans 
flew  overhead 
toward  the 
south-west.  They 
totalled  46;  12 
were  the  most  in 
one  flock.  In 
this  large  flock  I 
saw  a  quarrel.  No.  2  turned  back  and  struck  No.  3, 
his  long  neck  bent  and  curled  like  a  snake,  both 
dropped  downward  several  feet  then  3,  4  and  5  left 
that  flock.    I  suspect  they  were  of  another  family. 

But,  later,  as  we  entered  the  river  mouth  we  had  a 
thrilling  glimpse  of  Swan  life.  Flock  after  flock  came 
in  view  as  we  rounded  the  rush  beds ;  12  flocks  in  all 
we  saw,  none  had  less  than  5  in  it,  nearly  100  Swans  in 
sight  at  once,  and  all  rose  together  with  a  mighty  flap- 
ping of  strong,  white  wings,  and  the  chorus  of  the 
insignificant  "  too-too-tees"  sailed  farther  southward, 
probably  to  make  the  great  Swan  tryst  on  Hay 
River. 


Back's  chimney  in  Buffalo  Jones's  cabin 


268 


THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 


No  doubt  these  were  the  same  12  flocks  as  those 
observed  on  the  previous  days,  but  still  it  rejoiced  my 
heart  to  see  even  that  many.  I  had  feared  that  the 
species  was  far  gone  on  the  trail  of  the  Passenger 
Pigeon. 

But  this  is  anticipating.  We  were  camped  still  on 
the  island  north  of  the  traverse,  waiting  for  possible 

water.  All  day  we  watched 
in  vain,  all  night  the  surf 
kept  booming,  but  at  three 
in  the  morning  the  wind 
dropped,  at  four  it  was  obvi- 
ously calmer.  I  called  the 
boys  and  we  got  away  be- 
fore six;  dashing  straight 
south  in  spite  of  rolling  seas 
we  crossed  the  15-mile  stretch 
in  3f  hours,  and  turning  west- 
ward reached  Stony  Island 
by  noon.  Thence  southward 
through  ever  calmer  water  our  gallant  boat  went  spin- 
ning, reeling  off  the  level  miles  up  the  river  channel, 
and  down  again  on  its  south-west  branch,  in  a  glorious 
red  sunset,  covering  in  one  day  the  journeys  of  four 
during  our  outgoing,  in  the  supposedly  far  speedier  York 
boat.  Faster  and  faster  we  seemed  to  fly,  for  we  had 
the  grand  incentive  that  we  must  catch  the  steamer  at 
any  price  that  night.  Weeso  now,  for  the  first  time, 
showed  up  strong;  knowing  every  yard  of  the  way  he 
took  advantage  of  every  swirl  of  the  river;  in  and  out 
among  the  larger  islands  we  darted,  and  when  we 


Billy's  springle 


FORT  RELIANCE  TO  FORT  RESOLUTION  269 

should  have  stopped  for  the  night  no  man  said  "Stop," 
but  harder  we  paddled.  We  could  smell  the  steamer 
smoke,  we  thought,  and  pictured  her  captain  eagerly 


Flocks  of  Swans 


scanning  the  offing  for  our  flying  canoe;  it  was  most 
inspiring  and  the  Ann  Scion  jumped  up  to  G  miles  an 
hour  for  a  time.  So  we  went;  the  night  came  down, 
but  far  away  were  the  glittering  lights  of  Fort  Resolu- 
tion, and  the  Bteamer  that  should  end  our  toil.  How 
cheering.      The    skilly   pilot   and    the   lusty    paddler 


270  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

slacked  not — 40  miles  we  had  come  that  day — and 
when  at  last  some  49,  nearly  50,  paddled  miles  brought 
us  stiff  and  weary  to  the  landing  it  was  only  to  learn 
that  the  steamer,  notwithstanding  bargain  set  and 
agreed  on,  had  gone  south  two  days  before. 


CHAPTER  XLI 
GOING  UP  THE  LOWER  SLAVE 

What  we  thought  about  the  steamboat  official  who 
was  responsible  for  our  dilemma  we  did  not  need  to 
put  into  words;  for  every  one  knew  of  the  bargain  and 
its  breach:  nearly  every  one  present  had  protested 
at  the  time,  and  the  hardest  things  I  felt  like  saying 
were  mild  compared  with  the  things  already  said  by 
that  official's  own  colleagues.  But  these  things  were 
forgotten  in  the  hearty  greetings  of  friends  and  bun- 
dles of  letters  from  home.  It  was  eight  o'clock,  and 
of  course  black  night  when  we  landed;  yet  it  was 
midnight  when  we  thought  of  sleep. 

Fort  Resolution  is  always  dog-town;  and  now  it 
seemed  at  its  worst.  When  the  time  came  to  roll  up 
in  our  blankets,  we  were  fully  possessed  of  the  camper's 
horror  of  sleeping  indoors;  but  it  was  too  dark  to  put 
up  a  tent  and  there  was  not  a  square  foot  of  ground 
anywhere  near  that  was  not  polluted  and  stinking  of 
"  dog-sign,"  so  very  unwillingly  I  broke  my  long  spell 
of  sleeping  out,  on  this  131st  day,  and  passed  the  night 
on  the  floor  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  house.  I 
had  gone  indoors  to  avoid  the  "dog-sign"  and  next 
morning  found,  alas,  that  I  had  been  lying  all  night 
on  " cat-sign." 

I  say  lying;  I  did  not  sleep.  The  closeness  of  the 
room;  in  spite  of  an  open  window,  the  novelty,  the 

271 


272  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

smells,  combined  with  the  excitement  of  letters  from 
home,  banished  sleep  until  morning  came,  and,  of 
course,  I  got  a  bad  cold,  the  first  I  had  had  all  sum- 
mer. 

Here  I  said  " good-bye"  to  old  Weeso.  He  grinned 
affably,  and  when  I  asked  what  he  would  like  for  a 
present  said,  "Send  me  an  axe  like  yours. "  There  were 
three  things  in  my  outfit  that  aroused  the  cupidity  of 
nearly  every  Indian,  the  Winchester  rifle,  the  Peter- 
boro  canoe  and  the  Marble  axe,  "the  axe  that  swallows 
its  face."  Weeso  had  a  rifle,  we  could  not  spare  or 
send  him  a  canoe,  so  I  promised  to  send  him  the  axe. 
Post  is  slow,  but  it  reached  him  six  months  later  and 
I  doubt  not  is  even  now  doing  active  service. 

Having  missed  the  last  steamer,  we  must  go  on  by 
canoe.  Canoeing  up  the  river  meant  "tracking"  all 
the  way;  that  is,  the  canoe  must  be  hauled  up  with  a 
line,  by  a  man  walking  on  the  banks;  hard  work  need- 
ing not  only  a  strong,  active  man,  but  one  who  knows 
the  river.  Through  the  kindness  of  J.  McLeneghan, 
of  the  Swiggert  Trading  Company,  I  was  spared  the 
horrors  of  my  previous  efforts  to  secure  help  at  Fort 
Resolution,  and  George  Sanderson,  a  strong  young 
half-breed,  agreed  to  take  me  to  Fort  Smith  for  $2.00 
a  day  and  means  of  returning.  George  was  a  famous 
hunter  and  fisher,  and  a  "good  man"  to  travel.  I 
marked  his  broad  shoulders  and  sinewy,  active  form 
with  joy,  especially  in  view  of  his  reputation.  In  one 
respect  he  was  different  from  all  other  half-breeds  that 
I  ever  knew — he  always  gave  a  straight  answer.  Ask 
an  ordinary  half-breed,  or  western  white  man,  indeed, 


GOING  UP  THE  LOWER  SLAVE        273 

how  far  it  is  to  such  a  point,  his  reply  commonly  i.^ 
"Oh,  not  so  awful  far,"  or  "It  is  quite  a  piece,"  or 
"It  aint  such  a  hell  of  a  ways,"  conveying  to  the 
stranger  no  shadow  of  idea  whether  it  is  a  hundred 
yards,  a  mile,  or  a  week's  travel.  Again  and  again 
when  Sanderson  was  asked  how  far  it  was  to  a  given 
place,  he  would  pause  and  say,  "Three  miles  and  a 
half,"  or  "Little  more  than  eight  miles,"  as  the  case 
might  be.  The  usual  half-breed  when  asked  if  we 
could  make  such  a  point  by  noon  would  say  "Maybe. 
I  don't  know.  It  is  quite  a  piece."  Sanderson  would 
say,  "Yes,"  or  "No,  not  by  two  miles,"  according  to 
circumstances;  and  his  information  was  always  correct; 
he  knew  the  river  "like  a  book." 

On  the  afternoon  of  September  27  we  left  "Dog- 
town"  with  Sanderson  in  Wceso's  place  and  began 
our  upward  journey.  George  proved  as  good  as  his 
reputation.  The  way  that  active  fellow  would  stride 
along  the  shore,  over  logs  and  brush,  around  fallen  trees, 
hauling  the  canoe  against  stream  some  three  or  four 
miles  an  hour  was  perfectly  fine;  and  each  night  my 
heart  was  glad  and  sang  the  old  refrain,  "A  day's 
march  nearer  home." 

The  toil  of  this  tracking  is  second  only  to  that  of 
portageing.  The  men  usually  relieve  each  other  every 
30  minutes.  So  Billy  and  George  were  the  team.  If  I 
were  going  again  into  that  country  and  had  my  choice 
these  two  again  would  be  my  crew. 

Once  or  twice  I  took  the  track-line  myself  for  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour,  but  it  did  not  appeal  to  me  as  a  per- 


274  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

manent  amusement.  It  taught  me  one  thing  that  I 
did  not  suspect,  namely,  that  it  is  much  harder  to  haul 
a  canoe  with  three  inches  of  water  under  her  keel  than 


tf& 


"'f 


Lynx  tracks 


>'/, 


Musk-ox  tracks  a.  Moose  track  in  rocky  country 

b.  The  same  in  muddy  country 

with  three  feet.  In  the  former  case,  the  attraction 
of  the  bottom  is  most  powerful  and  evident.  The 
experience  also  explained  the  old  sailor  phrase  about 
the  vessel  feeling  the  bottom:  this  I  had  often  heard, 
but  never  before  comprehended. 

All  day  we  tracked,  covering  20  to  25  miles  between 
camps  and  hourly  making  observations  on  the  wild  life 
of  the  river.     Small  birds  and  mammals  were  evidently 


[Fox  swimming  Slave  River.     October  4,  1907 

much  more  abundant  than  in  spring,  and  the  broad, 
muddy,  and  sandy  reaches  of  the  margin  were  tracked 
over  by  Chipmunks,  Weasels,  Foxes,  Lynxes,  Bear, 
and  Moose. 


GOING   UP  THE  LOWER  SLAVE        275 

A  Lynx,  which  we  surprised  on  a  sand-bar,  took  to 
the  water  without  hesitation  and  swam  to  the  main- 
land. It  went  as  fast  as  a  dog,  but  not  nearly  so  fast 
as  a  Caribou.  A  large  Fox  that  we  saw  crossing  the 
river  proved  very  inferior  to  the  Lynx  in  swimming 
speed. 

The  two  portages,  Ennuyeux  and  Detour,  were  duly 
passed,  and  on  the  morning  of  October  3,  as  we  trav- 
elled, a  sailboat  hove  into  sight.  It  held  Messrs. 
Thomas  Christy,  C.  Harding,  and  Stagg.  We  were  now 
within  1J  days  of  Fort  Smith,  so  I  took  advantage  of 
the  opportunity  to  send  Sanderson  back.  On  the 
evening  of  the  3d  we  came  to  Salt  River,  and  there 
we  saw  Pierre  Squirrel  with  his  hundred  dogs  and  at 
1  p.  m.,  October  4,  arrived  at  Fort  Smith. 

Tracks  of  Blackbear,  Athabaska  Itivor 


CHAPTER  XLII 

FORT  SMITH  AND  THE  TUG 

Here  again  we  had  the  unpleasant  experience  of  sleep- 
ing indoors,  a  miserable,  sleepless,  stifling  night,  fol- 
lowed by  the  inevitable  cold. 

Next  day  we  rode  with  our  things  over  the  portage 
to  Smith  Landing.  I  had  secured  the  tug  Ariel  to 
give  us  a  lift,  and  at  7  p.  m.,  October  5,  pulled  out 
for  the  next  stretch  of  the  river,  ourselves  aboard 
the  tug,  the  canoe  with  a  cargo  towed  behind. 

That  night  we  slept  at  the  saw-mill,  perforce,  and 
having  had  enough  of  indoors,  I  spread  my  blankets 
outside,  with  the  result,  as  I  was  warned,  that  every 
one  of  the  numerous  dogs  came  again  and  again,  and 
passed  his  opinion  on  my  slumbering  form.  Next 
night  we  selected  an  island  to  camp  on,  the  men  did 
not  want  to  stay  on  the  mainland,  for  "the  woods  are 
full  of  mice  and  their  feet  are  so  cold  when  they  run 
over  your  face  as  you  sleep."  We  did  not  set  up  our 
tents  that  time  but  lay  on  the  ground;  next  morning 
at  dawn,  when  I  looked  around,  the  camp  was  like  a 
country  graveyard,  for  we  were  all  covered  with  leaves, 
and  each  man  was  simply  a  long  mound.  The  dawn 
came  up  an  ominous  rose-red.  I  love  not  the  rosy 
dawn;  a  golden  dawn  or  a  chill-blue  dawn  is  happy, 
but  I  fear  the  dawn  of  rose  as  the  red  head-light  of  a 

276 


The  (•.■imp  was  like  a  countr)   graveyard 


FORT   SMITH    AND   TIM!   THJ  277 

storm.  It  came;  by  8.30  the  rain  had  set  in  and 
steadily  fell  all  day. 

The  following  morning  we  had  our  first  accident. 
The  steamer  with  the  loaded  canoe  behind  was  rushing 

up  a  rapid.  A  swirl  of  water  upset  the  eanoe,  and  all 
our  large  packs  were  afloat.  All  were  quickly  recovered 
except  a  bag  of  salted  skins.  These  sank  and  were 
seen  no  more. 

On  October  9  we  arrived  at  Fort  Chipewyan.  As 
we  drew  near  that  famous  place  of  water-fowl,  the  long 
strings  and  massed  flocks  of  various  geese  and  ducks 
grew  more  and  more  plentiful;  and  at  the  Fort  itself 
we  found  their  metropolis.  The  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany had  killed  and  salted  about  600  Waveys  or  Snow 
Geese;  each  of  the  Loutit  families,  about  500;  not  less 
than  12,000  Waveys  will  be  salted  clown  this  fall,  be- 
sides Honkers,  White-fronts  and  Ducks.  Each  year 
they  reckon  on  about  10,000  Waveys,  in  poor  years 
the\-  take  0,000  to  6,000,  in  fat  years  15,000.  The 
Snow  and  White-fronted  Geese  all  had  the  white  parts 
of  the  head  more  or  less  stained  with  orange.  Only  one 
Blue  Goose  had  been  taken.  This  I  got ;  it  is  a  western- 
most record.  No  Swans  had  been  secured  this  year; 
in  fact,  I  am  told  that  they  are  never  taken  in  the  fall 
because  they  never  come  this  way,  though  they  visit 
the  cast  end  of  the  lake;  in  the  spring  they  come  by 
here  and  about  20  are  taken  each  year.  Chipewyan 
was  Billy  Loutit's  home,  and  the  family  gave  a  dance 
in  honour  of  the  wanderer's  return.  Here  I  secured  a 
tall  half-breed,  Gregoire  Daniell,  usually  kno\vrn  as 
"Bellalisc,"  to  go  with  me  as  far  as  Athabaska  Landing. 


278  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

There  was  no  good  reason  why  we  should  not  leave 
Chipewyan  in  three  hours.  But  the  engineer  of  my 
tug  had  run  across  an  old  friend ;  they  wanted  to  have 
a  jollification,  as  of  course  the  engine  was  " hopelessly 
out  of  order."  But  we  got  away  at  7  next  day — my 
four  men  and  the  tug's  three.  At  the  wheel  was  a 
half-breed — David  MacPherson — who  is  said  to  be  a 
natural-born  pilot,  and  the  best  in  the  country.  Al- 
though he  never  was  on  the  Upper  Slave  before,  and 
it  is  an  exceedingly  difficult  stream  with  its  intermin- 
able, intricate,  shifting  shallows,  crooked,  narrow 
channels,  and  impenetrable  muddy  currents,  his  "nose 
for  water"  is  so  good  that  he  brought  us  through  at 
full  speed  without  striking  once.  Next  time  he  will  be 
qualified  to  do  it  by  night. 

In  the  grove  where  we  camped  after  sundown  were 
the  teepee  and  shack  of  an  Indian  (Chipewyan)  Brayno 
(probably  Brenaud).  This  is  his  hunting  and  trapping 
ground,  and  has  been  for  years.  No  one  poaches  on  it; 
that  is  unwritten  law;  a  man  may  follow  a  wounded 
animal  into  his  neighbour's  territory,  but  not  trap 
there.  The  nearest  neighbour  is  10  miles  off.  He  gets 
3  or  4  Silver  Foxes  every  year,  a  few  Lynx,  Otter,  Mar- 
ten, etc. 

Bellalise  was  somewhat  of  a  character.  About  6 
feet  4  in  height,  with  narrow,  hollow  chest,  very  large 
hands  and  feet  and  a  nervous,  restless  way  of  flinging 
himself  about.  He  struck  me  as  a  man  who  was  killing 
himself  with  toil  beyond  his  physical  strength.  He  was 
strongly  recommended  by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
people  as  a  "good  man."    I  liked  his  face  and  manners, 


FORT  SMITH  AND  THE  TUG  279 

he  was  an  intelligent  companion,  and  I  was  glad  to  have 
secured  him.  At  the  first  and  second  camps  he  worked 
hard.  At  the  next  he  ceased  work  suddenly  and  went 
aside;  his  stomach  was  upset.  A  few  hours  afterwards 
he  told  me  he  was  feeling  ill.  The  engineer,  who 
wanted  him  to  cut  wood,  said  to  me,  "That  man 
is  shamming."  My  reply  was  short:  "You  have 
known  him  for  months,  and  think  he  is  shamming; 
I  have  known  him  for  hours  and  I  know  he  is  not  that 
kind  of  a  man" 

He  told  me  next  morning,  "It's  no  use,  I  got  my 
breast  crushed  by  the  tug  a  couple  of  weeks  ago,  I 
have  no  strength.  At  Fort  McKay  is  a  good  man 
named  Jiarobia,  he  will  go  with  you." 

So  when  the  tug  left  us  Bellalise  refunded  his  ad- 
vance and  returned  to  Chipewvan.  He  was  one  of 
those  that  made  me  think  well  of  his  people;  and  his 
observations  on  the  wild  life  of  the  country  showed 
that  he  had  a  tongue  to  tell,  as  well  as  eyes  to  see. 

That  morning,  besides  the  calls  of  Honkers  and 
Waveys  we  heard  the  glorious  trumpeting  of  the  White 
Crane.  It  has  less  rattling  croak  and  more  whoop 
than  that  of  the  Brown  Crane.  Bellalise  says  that 
every  year  a  few  come  to  Chipewvan,  then  go  north 
with  the  Waveys  to  breed.  In  the  fall  they  come 
back  for  a  month;  they  are  usually  in  flocks  of  three 
and  four;  two  old  ones  and  their  offspring,  the  latter 
known  by  their  brownish  colour.  If  you  get  the  two 
old  ones  the  young  ones  arc  easily  killed,  as  they  keep 
flying  low  over  the  place. 

Is  this  then  the  secret  of  its  disappearance?  and  is  it 


280  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

on  these  far  breeding  grounds  that  man  has  proved 
too  hard? 

At  Lobstick  Point,  2  p.  m.,  October  13,  the  tug 
turned  back  and  we  three  continued  our  journey  as 
before,  Preble  and  Billy  taking  turns  at  tracking  the 
canoe. 

Next  day  we  reached  Fort  McKay  and  thus  marked 
another  important  stage  of  the  journey. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

FORT  McKAY  AND  JIAROBIA 

Fort  McKay  was  the  last  point  at  which  we  saw  the 
Chipewyan  style  of  teepee,  and  the  first  where  the  Cree 
appeared.  But  its  chief  interest  to  us  lay  in  the  fact 
that  it  was  the  home  of  Jiarobia,  a  capable  river-man 
who  wished  to  go  to  Athabaska  Landing.  The  first 
thing  that  struck  us  about  Jiarobia — whose  dictionary 
name  by  the  way  is  Elzear  Robillard — was  that  his 
house  had  a  good  roof  and  a  large  pile  of  wood  ready 
cut.  These  were  extremely  important  indications  in 
a  land  of  improvidence.  Robillard  was  a  thin,  active, 
half-breed  of  very  dark  skin.  He  was  willing  to  go  for 
$2.00  a  day  the  round  trip  (18  days)  plus  food  and  a 
boat  to  return  with.  But  a  difficulty  now  appeared; 
Madame  Robillard,  a  tall,  dark  half-breed  woman, 
objected:  "Elzear  had  been  away  all  summer,  he 
should  stay  home  now."  "If  you  go  I  will  run  off  into 
the  backwoods  with  the  first  wild  Indian  that  wants  a 
squaw,"  she  threatened.  "Now,"  said  Rob,  in  choice 
English,  "I  am  up  against  it."  She  did  not  under- 
stand English,  but  she  could  read  looks  and  had  some 
French,  so  I  took  a  hand. 

"If  Madame  will  consent  I  will  advance  $15.00  of 
her  husband's  pay  and  will  let  her  select  the  finest  silk 
handkerchief  in  the  Hudson's  Bay  store  for  a  present." 

In  about  three  minutes  her  Cree  eloquence  died  a 

281 


282  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

natural  death;  she  put  a  shawl  on  her  head  and 
stepped  toward  the  door  without  looking  at  me.  Rob 
nodded  to  me,  and  signed  to  go  to  the  Hudson's  Bay 
store;  by  which  I  inferred  that  the  case  was  won; 
we  were  going  now  to  select  the  present.  To  my 
amazement  she  turned  from  all  the  bright-coloured 
goods  and  selected  a  large  black  silk  handkerchief. 

The  men  tell  me  it  is  always  so  now;  fifty  years  ago 
every  woman  wanted  red  things.  Now  all  want  black; 
and  the  traders  who  made  the  mistake  of  importing 
red  have  had  to  import  dyes  and  dip  them  all. 

Jiarobia,  or,  as  we  mostly  call  him,  "Rob,"  proved  a 
most  amusing  character  as  well  as  a  "good  man"  and 
the  reader  will  please  note  that  nearly  all  of  my  single 
help  were  "good  men."  Only  when  I  had  a  crowd 
was  there  trouble.  His  store  of  anecdote  was  un- 
bounded and  his  sense  of  humour  ever  present,  if 
broad  and  simple.  He  talked  in  English,  French,  and 
Cree,  and  knew  a  good  deal  of  Chipewyan.  Many  of 
his  personal  adventures  would  have  fitted  admirably 
into  the  Decameron,  but  are  scarcely  suited  for  this 
narrative.  One  evening  he  began  to  sing,  I  listened 
intently,  thinking  maybe  I  should  pick  up  some  an- 
cient chanson  of  the  voyageurs  or  at  least  a  wood- 
man's "Come-all-ye."  Alas!  it  proved  to  be  nothing 
but  the  "Whistling  Coon." 

Which  reminds  me  of  another  curious  experience 
at  the  village  of  Fort  Smith.  I  saw  a  crowd  of  the  In- 
dians about  a  lodge  and  strange  noises  proceeding 
therefrom.  When  I  went  over  the  folk  made  way  for 
me.    I  entered,  sat  down,  and  found  that  they  were 


FORT  McKAY  AND  JIAROBIA 


2S3 


crowded  around  a  cheap  gramophone  which  was  hawk- 
ing, spitting  and  screeching  some  awful  rag-time  music 
and  nigger  jigs.  I  could  forgive  the  traders  for  bring- 
ing in  the  gramo- 
phone, but  why,  oh, 
why,  did  they  not 
bring  some  of  the 
simple  world-wide 
human  songs  which 
could  at  least  have 
had  an  educational 
effect?  The  Indian 
group  listened  to  this 
weird  inst  rumen  t  with 
the  profoundest  grav- 
ity. If  there  is  any- 
thing inherently  com- 
ic in  our  low  comics 
it  was  entirely  lost  on 
them. 
One  of  Rob's  amusing  fireside  tricks  was  thus:  He 
put  his  hands  together,  so:  (illustration).  ''Now  de 
tumbs  is  you  and  your  fader,  de  first  finger  is  you 
and  your  mudder,  ze  next  is  you  and  your  sister,  ze 
little  finger  is  you  and  your  brudder,  ze  ring  finger  is 
you  and  your  sweetheart.  You  and  your  fader  sepa- 
rate easy,  like  dat ;  you  and  your  brudder  like  dat,  you 
and  your  sister  like  dat,  dat's  easy;  you  and  your 
mudder  like  dat,  dat's  not  so  easy;  but  you  and 
your  sweetheart  cannot  part  widout  all  everything 
go  to  hell  first." 


284  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

Later,  as  we  passed  the  American  who  lives  at  Fort 
McMurray,  Jiarobia  said  to  me:  "Dat  man  is  the 
biggest  awful  liar  on  de  river.  You  should  hear  him 
talk.  'One  day,'  he  said,  Mere  was  a  big  stone  floating 
up  de  muddy  river  and  on  it  was  tree  men,  and  one 
was  blind  and  one  was  plumb  naked  and  one  had  no 
arms  nor  legs,  and  de  blind  man  he  looks  down  on 
bottom  of  river  an  see  a  gold  watch,  an  de  cripple  he 
reach  out  and  get  it,  and  de  naked  man  he  put  it  in 
his  pocket.'  Now  any  man  talk  dat  way  he  one  most 
awful  liar,  it  is  not  possible,  any  part,  no  how." 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

THE  RIVER 

Now  we  resumed  our  daily  life  of  tracking,  eating, 
tracking,  camping,  tracking,  sleeping.  The  weather 
had  continued  fine,  with  little  change  ever  since  we  left 
Resolution,  and  we  were  so  hardened  to  the  life  that 
it  was  pleasantly  monotonous. 

How  different  now  were  my  thoughts  compared  with 
those  of  last  Spring,  as  I  first  looked  on  this  great  river. 

When  we  had  embarked  on  the  leaping,  boiling, 
muddy  Athabaska,  in  this  frail  canoe,  it  had  seemed  a 
foolhardy  enterprise.  How  could  such  a  craft  ride 
such  a  stream  for  2,000  miles?  It  was  like  a  mouse 
mounting  a  monstrous,  untamed,  plunging  and  rear- 
ing horse.  Now  we  set  out  each  morning,  familiar 
with  stream  and  our  boat,  having  no  thought  of  danger, 
and  viewing  the  water,  the  same  turbid  flood,  as  our 
servant.  Even  as  a  skilful  tamer  will  turn  the  wildest 
horse  into  his  willing  slave,  so  have  we  conquered  this 
river  and  made  it  the  bearer  of  our  burdens.  So  I 
thought  and  wrote  at  the  time;  but  the  wise  tamer  is 
ever  alert,  never  lulled  into  false  security.  He  knows 
that  a  heedless  move  may  turn  his  Mrvd  into  a  deadly, 
dangerous  monster.     We  had  our  lesson  to  learn. 

That  night  (October  15)  there  was  a  dull  yellow 
sunset.  The  morning  came  with  a  strong  north  wind 
and  rain  that  turned  to  snow,  and  with  it  great  flocks 

285 


286  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

of  birds  migrating  from  the  Athabaska  Lake.  Many 
rough-legged  Hawks,  hundreds  of  small  land  birds, 
thousands  of  Snow-birds  in  flocks  of  20  to  200,  myriads 
of  Ducks  and  Geese,  passed  over  our  heads  going  south- 
ward before  the  frost.  About  8.30  the  Geese  began  to 
pass  in  ever-increasing  flocks;  between  9.45  and  10  I 

A    S  \  A 

A    a      \V> 

\ 

Flocks  of  Snow-Geese  passing  southward 

counted  114  flocks  averaging  about  30  each  (5  to  300) 
and  they  kept  on  at  this  rate  till  2  p.  m.  This  would  give 
a  total  of  nearly  100,000  Geese.  It  was  a  joyful  thing 
to  see  and  hear  them;  their  legions  in  flight  array 
went  stringing  high  aloft,  so  high  they  looked  not 
like  Geese,  but  threads  across  the  sky,  the  cobwebs, 
indeed,  that  Mother  Carey  was  sweeping  away  with  her 
north-wind  broom.  I  sketched  and  counted  flock  after 
flock  with  a  sense  of  thankfulness  that  so  many  were 
left  alive.  Most  were  White  Geese,  but  a  twentieth, 
perhaps,  were  Honkers. 


THE   RIVER  287 

The  Ducks  began  to  pass  over  about  noon,  and  be- 
came more  numerous  than  the  Geese  as  they  went  on. 

In  the  midst  of  this  myriad  procession,  as  though 
they  were  the  cent  re  and  cause  of  all,  were  two  splendid 
White  Cranes,  bugling  as  they  flew.  Later  that  day 
we  saw  another  band,  of  three,  but  these  were  all; 
their  race  is  nearly  run. 

The  full  moon  was  on  and  all  night  the  wild-fowl 
flew.  The  frost  was  close  behind  them,  sharp  and  sud- 
den. Next  morning  the  ponds  about  us  had  ice  an 
inch  thick  and  we  heard  of  it  three  inches  at  other 
places. 

But  the  sun  came  out  gloriously  and  when  at  ten 
we  landed  at  Fort  M< -Murray  the  day  was  warm  and 
perfect  in  its  autumnal  peace. 

Miss  Gordon,  the  postmaster,  did  not  recognise  us 
at  first.  She  said  we  all  looked  "so  much  older,  it  is 
always  so  with  folks  who  go  north." 

Next  morning  we  somehow  left  our  tent  behind. 
It  was  old  and  of  little  value,  so  we  did  not  go  back, 
and  the  fact  that  we  never  really  needed  it  speaks 
much  for  the  sort  of  weather  we  had  to  the  end  of  the 
trip. 

A  couple  of  Moose  (cow  and  calf)  crossed  the  river 
ahead  of  us,  and  Billy  went  off  in  hot  pursuit;  but  saw 
no  more  of  them. 

Tracks  of  animals  were  extremely  abundant  on  the 
shore  here.  Large  Wolves  became  quite  numerous, 
evidently  we  were  now  in  their  country.  Apparently 
they  had  killed  a  Moose,  as  their  dung  was  full  of  Moose 
hair. 


288  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

We  were  now  in  the  Canyon  of  the  Athabaska  and 
from  this  on  our  journey  was  a  fight  with  the  rapids. 
One  by  one  my  skilful  boatmen  negotiated  them;  either 
we  tracked  up  or  half  unloaded,  or  landed  and  portaged, 
but  it  was  hard  and  weary  work.  My  journal  entry 
for  the  night  of  the  18th  runs  thus: 

"  I  am  tired  of  troubled  waters.  All  day  to-day  and 
for  five  days  back  we  have  been  fighting  the  rapids  of 
this  fierce  river.  My  place  is  to  sit  in  the  canoe-bow 
with  a  long  pole,  glancing  here  and  there,  right,  left, 
and  ahead,  watching  ever  the  face  of  this  snarling 
river;  and  when  its  curling  green  lips  apart  betray  a 
yellow  brown  gleam  of  deadly  teeth  too  near,  it  is  my 
part  to  ply  with  might  and  main  that  pole,  and  push 
the  frail  canoe  aside  to  where  the  stream  is  in  milder, 
kindlier  mood.  Oh,  I  love  not  a  brawling  river  any 
more  than  a  brawling  woman,  and  thoughts  of  the 
broad,  calm  Slave,  with  its  majestic  stretches  of  level 
flood,  are  now  as  happy  halcyon  memories  of  a  bright 
and  long-gone  past." 

My  men  were  skilful  and  indefatigable.  One  by 
one  we  met  the  hard  rapids  in  various  ways,  mostly  by 
portaging,  but  on  the  morning  of  the  19th  we  came 
to  one  so  small  and  short  that  all  agreed  the  canoe  could 
be  forced  by  with  poles  and  track-line.  It  looked  an 
insignificant  ripple,  no  more  than  a  fish  might  make 
with  its  tail,  and  what  happened  in  going  up,  is  re- 
corded as  follows: 


CHAPTER  XLV 

THE  RIVER  SHOWS  ITS  TEETH 

"Oct.  20,  1907. — Athabaska  River.  In  the  Canyon. 
This  has  been  a  day  of  horrors  and  mercies.  We  left 
the  camp  early,  6.55 — long  before  sunrise,  and  portaged 
the  first  rapid.  About  9  we  came  to  the  middle  rapid; 
llii.s  Billy  thought  we  could  track  up,  so  with  two  ropes 
he  and  Rob  were  hauling  us,  I  in  bow,  Preble  in  stern; 
but  the  strong  waters  of  the  middle  part  whirled  the 
canoe  around  suddenly,  and  dashed  her  on  a  rock. 
There  was  a  crash  of  breaking  timber,  a  roar  of  the 
flood,  and  in  a  moment  Preble  and  I  and  all  the  stuff 
were  in  the  water. 

"'My  journals/  I  shouted  as  I  went  down,  and  all 
the  time  the  flood  was  boiling  in  my  ears  my  thought 
was,  'My  journals/ — 'my  journals/ 

''The  moment  my  mouth  was  up  again  above  the 
water,  I  bubbled  out,  'My  journals, — save  my  jour- 
nals/ then  struck  out  for  the  shore.  Now  I  saw  Preble 
hanging  on  to  the  canoe  and  trying  to  right  it.  His 
face  was  calm  and  unchanged  as  when  setting  a  mouse- 
trap. 'Never  mind  that,  save  yourself/  I  called  out; 
he  made  no  response,  and,  after  all,  it  was  safest  to 
hang  on  to  the  canoe.  I  was  swept  into  a  shallow 
place  at  once,  and  got  on  my  feet,  then  gained  the 
shore. 

289 


290  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

"  'My  journals — save  them  first!'  I  shouted  to  the 
two  boys,  and  now  remembered  with  horror,  how,  this 
very  morning,  on  account  of  portaging,  I  had  for  the 
first  time  put  all  three  journals  in  the  hand-bag  that 
had  disappeared,  whereas  the  telescope  that  used  to 
hold  two  of  them,  was  floating  high.  It  is  the  emer- 
gency that  proves  your  man,  and  I  learned  that  day 
I  had  three  of  the  best  men  that  ever  boarded  a  boat. 
A  glance  showed  Preble  in  shallow  water  coolly  haul- 
ing in  the  canoe. 

"Rob  and  Billy  bounded  along  the  rugged  shores, 
from  one  ice-covered  rock  to  another,  over  piles  of 
drift  logs  and  along  steep  ledges  they  went;  like  two 
mountain  goats;  the  flood  was  spotted  with  floating 
things,  but  no  sign  of  the  precious  journal-bag.  Away 
out  was  the  grub-box,  square  and  high  afloat,  it  struck 
a  reef.  'You  save  the  grub/  yelled  Billy  above  the 
roaring,  pitiless  flood,  and  dashed  on.  I  knew  Billy's 
head  was  cool  and  clear,  so  I  plunged  into  the  water, 
ice-cold  and  waist  deep — and  before  the  merciless  one 
could  snatch  it  along,  I  had  the  grub-box  safe.  Mean- 
while Rob  and  Billy  had  danced  away  out  of  sight 
along  that  wild  canyon  bank.  I  set  out  after  them.  In 
some  eddies  various  articles  were  afloat,  a  cocoa  tin, 
a  milk  pot,  a  bag  of  rare  orchids  intended  for  a  friend, 
a  half  sack  of  flour,  and  many  little  things  I  saved  at 
cost  of  a  fresh  wetting  each  time,  and  on  the  bank, 
thrown  hastily  up  by  the  boys,  were  such  bundles  as 
they  had  been  able  to  rescue. 

"I  struggled  on,  but  the  pace  was  killing.  They 
were  young  men  and  dog-runners;   I  was  left  behind 


THE  RIVER  SHOWS  ITS  TEETH        291 

and  was  getting  so  tired  now  I  could  not  keep  warm; 
there  was  a  keen  frost  and  I  was  wet  to  the  skin. 
The  chance  to  rescue  other  things  came  again  and 
again.  Twelve  times  did  I  plunge  into  that  deadly 
cold  river,  and  so  gathered  a  lot  of  small  truck.  Then 
knowing  I  could  do  little  more,  and  realising  that 
everything  man  could  do  would  be  done  without  me, 
turned  back  reluctantly.  Preble  passed  me  at  a  run; 
he  had  left  the  canoe  in  a  good  place  and  had  saved 
some  bedding. 

"'Have  you  seen  my  journal-bag?'  He  made  a 
quick  gesture  down  the  river,  then  dashed  away. 
Alas!  I  knew  now,  the  one  irreplaceable  part  of  our 
cargo  was  deep  in  the  treacherous  flood,  never  to  be 
seen  again. 

"At  the  canoe  I  set  about  making  a  fire;  there  was 
no  axe  to  cut  kindling-wood,  but  a  birch  tree  was  near, 
and  a  pile  of  shredded  birch-bark  with  a  lot  of  dry  wil- 
low on  it  made  a  perfect  fire-lay;  then  I  opened  my 
waterproof  matchbox.  Oh,  horrors!  the  fifteen  matches 
in  it  were  damp  and  soggy.  I  tried  to  dry  them  by 
blowing  on  them;  my  frozen  fingers  could  scarcely 
hold  them.  After  a  time  I  struck  one.  It  was  soft  and 
useless;  another  and  another  at  intervals,  till  thirteen; 
then,  despairing,  I  laid  the  last  two  on  a  stone  in  the 
weak  sunlight,  and  tried  to  warm  myself  by  gathering 
firewood  and  moving  quickly,  but  it  seemed  useless — 
a  very  death  chill  was  on  me.  I  have  often  lighted 
a  fire  with  rubbing-sticks,  but  I  needed  an  axe,  as  well 
as  a  buckskin  thong  for  this,  and  I  had  neither.  I 
looked  through  the  baggage  that  was  saved,  no  matches 


292  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

and  all  things  dripping  wet.  I  might  go  three  miles 
down  that  frightful  canyon  to  our  last  camp  and  mayl  >e 
get  some  living  coals.  But  no!  mindful  of  the  forestry 
laws,  we  had  as  usual  most  carefully  extinguished  the 
fire  with  buckets  of  water,  and  the  clothes  were  freezing 
on  my  back.  I  was  tired  out,  teeth  chattering.  Then 
came  the  thought,  Why  despair  while  two  matches 
remain?  I  struck  the  first  now,  the  fourteenth,  and,  in 
spite  of  dead  fingers  and  the  sizzly,  doubtful  match, 
it  cracked,  blazed,  and  then,  oh  blessed,  blessed  birch 
bark! — with  any  other  tinder  my  numbed  hands  had 
surely  failed — it  blazed  like  a  torch,  and  warmth  at  last 
was  mine,  and  outward  comfort  for  a  house  of  gloom. 
"The  boys,  I  knew,  would  work  like  heroes  and  do 
their  part  as  well  as  man  could  do  it,  my  work  was 
right  here.  I  gathered  all  the  things  along  the  beach, 
made  great  racks  for  drying  and  a  mighty  blaze.  I 
had  no  pots  or  pans,  but  an  aluminum  bottle  which 
would  serve  as  kettle;  and  thus  I  prepared  a  meal  of 
such  things  as  were  saved — a  scrap  of  pork,  some  tea 
and  a  soggy  mass  that  once  was  pilot  bread.  Then  sat 
down  by  the  fire  to  spend  five  hours  of  growing  horror, 
175  miles  from  a  settlement,  canoe  smashed,  guns  gone, 
pots  and  pans  gone,  specimens  all  gone,  half  our 
bedding  gone,  our  food  gone;  but  all  these  things  were 
nothing,  compared  with  the  loss  of  my  three  precious 
journals;  600  pages  of  observation  and  discovery, 
geographical,  botanical,  and  zoological,  500  drawings, 
valuable  records  made  under  all  sorts  of  trying  circum- 
stances, discovery  and  compass  survey  of  the  beauti- 
ful Nyarling  River,  compass  survey  of  the  two  great 


THE  RIVER   SHOW'S   ITS  TEETH        293 

northern  lakes,  discovery  of  two  greal  northern  rivers, 
many  lakes,  a  thousand  things  of  interest  to  others 
and  priceless  to  me — my  summer's  work— gone;  yes, 
I  could  bear  that,  hut  the  three  chapters  of  life  and 
thought  irrevocably  gone;  the  magnitude  of  this  ca- 
lamity was  crushing.  Oh,  God,  this  is  the  most  awful 
blow  that  could  have  fallen  at  the  end  of  the  six 
months'  trip. 

''The  hours  went  by,  and  the  gloom  grew  deeper, 
for  there  was  no  sign  of  the  boys.  Never  till  now  did 
the  thought  of  danger  enter  my  mind.  Had  they  been 
too  foolhardy  in  their  struggle  with  the  terrible  stream? 
Had  they,  too,  been  made  to  feel  its  power?  My 
guess  was  near  the  truth;  and  yd  there  was  that  awful 
river  unchanged,  glittering,  surging,  beautiful,  exactly 
as  on  so  many  days  before,  when  life  on  it  had  seemed 
so  bright. 

"At  three  in  the  afternoon,  I  saw  a  fly  crawl  down 
the  rocks  a  mile  away.  I  fed  the  fire  and  heated  up 
the  food  and  tea.  In  twenty  minutes  I  could  see  that 
it  was  Rob,  but  both  his  hands  were  empty.  'If  they 
had  found  it,'  I  said  to  myself,  'they  would  send  it 
back  first  thing,  and  if  he  had  it,  lie  would  swing  it 
aloft/  Yet  no,  nothing  but  a  shiny  tin  was  in  his  hands 
and  the  blow  had  fallen.  The  suspense  was  over, 
anyway.  I  bowed  my  head,  'We  have  done  what  we 
could.' 

"Rob  came  slowly  up,  worn  out.  In  his  hand  a  tin 
of  baking-powder.  Across  his  breast  was  a  canvas 
band.  lie  tottered  toward  me,  too  tired  t<>  speak  in 
answer  to  my  unspoken  question,  but  he  turned  and 


294  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

there  on  his  back  was  the  canvas  bag  that  held  the 
labour  of  all  these  long  toilsome  months. 

"'I  got  'em  all  right/  he  managed  to  say,  smiling 
in  a  weak  way. 

'"And  the  boys?' 

"'All  right  now.' 

"'Thank  God!'  I  broke  down,  and  wrung  his  hand; 
'I  won't  forget,'  was  all  I  could  say.  Hot  tea  revived 
him,  loosened  his  tongue,  and  I  heard  the  story. 

'"I  knew,'  he  said,  'what  was  first  to  save  when  I 
seen  you  got  ashore.  Me  and  Billy  we  run  like  crazy, 
we  see  dat  bag  'way  out  in  the  deep  strong  water. 
De  odder  tings  came  in  de  eddies,  but  dat  bag  it  keep 
'way  out,  but  we  run  along  de  rocks;  after  a  mile  it 
came  pretty  near  a  point,  and  Billy,  he  climb  on  a  rock 
and  reach  out,  but  he  fall  in  deep  water  and  was  carried 
far,  so  he  had  to  swim  for  his  life.  I  jump  on  rocks 
anoder  mile  to  anoder  point;  I  got  ahead  of  de  bag, 
den  I  get  two  logs,  and  hold  dem  between  my  legs  for 
raft,  and  push  out;  but  dat  dam  river  he  take  dem 
logs  very  slow,  and  dat  bag  very  fast,  so  it  pass  by. 
But  Billy  he  swim  ashore,  and  run  some  more,  and  he 
make  a  raft ;  but  de  raft  he  stick  on  rock,  and  de  bag 
he  never  stick,  but  go  like  hell. 

'"Den  I  say,  "Here,  Billy,  you  give  me  yo'  sash," 
and  I  run  tree  mile  more,  so  far  I  loss  sight  of  dat  bag 
and  make  good  raft.  By'mebye  Billy  he  come  shout- 
ing and  point,  I  push  out  in  river,  and  paddle,  and 
watch,  and  sure  dere  come  dat  bag.  My,  how  he 
travel!  far  out  now;  but  I  paddle  and  push  hard  and 
bump  he  came  at  raft  and  I  grab  him.    Oh!  maybe  I 


THE  RIVER  SHOWS  ITS  TEETH       295 

warn't  glad!  ice  on  river,  frost  in  air,  14  mile  run  on 
snowy  rocks,  but  I  no  care,  I  bet  I  make  dat  boss  glad 
when  he  see  me." 

"Glad !  I  never  felt  more  thankful  in  my  life!  My 
heart  swelled  with  gratitude  to  the  brave  boys  that 
had  leaped,  scrambled,  slidden,  tumbled,  fallen,  swum 
or  climbed  over  those  14  perilous,  horrible  miles  of 
icy  rocks  and  storm-piled  timbers,  to  save  the  books 
that,  to  them,  seemed  of  so  little  value,  but  which 
they  yet  knew  were,  to  me,  the  most  precious  of  all 
my  things.  Guns,  cameras,  food,  tents,  bedding, 
dishes,  were  trifling  losses,  and  the  horror  of  that  day 
was  turned  to  joy  by  the  crowning  mercy  of  its  close. 

"'I  won't  forget  you  when  we  reach  the  Landing, 
Rob ! '  were  the  meagre  words  that  rose  to  my  lips,  but 
the  tone  of  voice  supplied  what  the  words  might  lack. 
And  I  did  not  forget  him  or  the  others;  and  Robillard 
said  afterward,  'By  Gar,  dat  de  best  day's  work  I  ever 
done,  by  Gar,  de  time  I  run  down  dat  hell  river  after 
dem  dam  books!'" 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

BRIGHT  AGAIN 

In  an  hour  the  other  men  came  back.  The  rest  of  the 
day  we  put  in  drying  the  things,  especially  our  bedding. 
We  used  the  aluminum  bottle,  and  an  old  meat  tin 
for  kettle;  some  bacon,  happily  saved,  was  fried  on 
sticks,  and  when  we  turned  in  that  night  it  was  with 
light  and  thankful  hearts,  in  spite  of  our  manifold 
minor  losses. 

Morning  dawned  bright  and  beautiful  and  keen. 
How  glorious  that  surging  river  looked  in  its  noble 
canyon;  but  we  were  learning  thoroughly  that  noble 
scenery  means  dangerous  travel — and  there  was  much 
noble  scenery  ahead;  and  I,  at  least,  felt  much  older 
than  before  this  upset. 

The  boys  put  in  a  couple  of  hours  repairing  the  canoe, 
then  they  studied  the  river  in  hopes  of  recovering  the 
guns.  How  well  the  river-men  seemed  to  know  it! 
Its  every  ripple  and  curl  told  them  a  story  of  the  bot- 
tom and  the  flood, 

"There  must  be  a  ledge  there,"  said  Billy,  "just 
where  we  upset.  If  the  guns  went  down  at  once  they 
are  there.  If  they  were  carried  at  all,  the  bottom  is 
smooth  to  the  second  ledge  and  they  are  there."  He 
pointed  a  hundred  yards  away. 

So  they  armed  themselves  with  grappling-poles 
that  had  nails  for  claws.    Then  we  lowered  Rob  in 

296 


BRIGHT  AGAIN  297 

the  canoe  into  the  rapid  and  held  on  while  he  fished 
above  the  ledge. 

"I  tink  I  feel  'em/'  said  Rob,  again  and  again,  but 
could  not  bring  them  up.     Then  Billy  tried. 

"Yes,  they  are  there."  But  the  current  was  too 
fierce  and  the  hook  too  poor;  he  could  not  hold 
them. 

Then  I  said:  "There  is  only  one  thing  to  do.  A 
man  must  go  in  at  the  end  of  the  rope;  maybe  he  can 
reach  down.  I'll  never  send  any  man  into  such  a 
place,  but  I'll  go  myself." 

So  I  stripped,  padded  the  track-line  with  a  towel  and 
put  it  around  my  waist,  then  plunged  in.  Ouch!  it 
was  cold,  and  going  seven  miles  an  hour.  The  boys 
lowered  me  to  the  spot  where  I  was  supposed  to  dive  or 
reach  down.  It  was  only  five  feet  deep,  but,  struggle 
as  I  might,  I  could  not  get  even  my  arm  down.  I 
ducked  and  dived,  but  I  was  held  in  the  surface  like 
a  pennant  on  an  air-blast.  In  a  few  minutes  the  icy 
flood  had  robbed  me  of  all  sensation  in  my  limbs,  and 
showed  how  impossible  was  the  plan,  so  I  gave  the 
signal  to  haul  me  in;  which  they  did,  nearly  cutting 
my  body  in  two  with  the  rope.  And  if  ever  there  was 
a  grovelling  fire-worshipper,  it  was  my  frozen  self 
when  I  landed. 

Now  we  tried  a  new  scheme.  A  tall  spruce  on  the 
shore  was  leaning  over  the  place;  fifty  feet  out,  barely 
showing,  was  the  rock  that  wrecked  us.  We  cut  the 
spruce  so  it  fell  with  its  butt  on  the  shore,  and  lodged 
against  the  rock.  On  this,  now,  Rob  and  Billy  walked 
out  and  took  turns  grappling.     Luck  was  with  Rob. 


298  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

In  a  few  minutes  he  triumphantly  hauled  up  the  rifle 
and  a  little  later  the  shotgun,  none  the  worse. 

Now,  we  had  saved  everything  except  the  surplus 
provisions  and  my  little  camera,  trifling  matters,  in- 
deed; so  it  was  with  feelings  of  triumph  that  we  went 
on  south  that  day. 

In  the  afternoon,  as  we  were  tracking  up  the  last  part 
of  the  Boiler  Rapid,  Billy  at  the  bow,  Rob  on  the  shore, 
the  line  broke,  and  we  were  only  saved  from  another 

dreadful  disaster  by  Billy's  nerve  and  quickness;  for 
he  fearlessly  leaped  overboard,  had  the  luck  to  find 
bottom,  and  held  the  canoe's  head  with  all  his  strength. 
The  rope  was  mended  and  a  safe  way  was  found. 
That  time  I  realized  the  force  of  an  Indian  reply  to  a 
trader  who  sought  to  sell  him  a  cheap  rope.  "In  the 
midst  of  a  rapid  one  does  not  count  the  cost  of  the 
line." 

At  night  we  camped  in  a  glorious  red  sunset,  just 
above  the  Boiler  Rapid.  On  the  shore  was  a  pile  of 
flour  in  sacks,  inscribed  in  Cree,  "Gordon  his  flour." 

Here  it  was,  the  most  prized  foreign  product  in  the 
country,  lying  unprotected  by  the  highway,  and  no 
man  seemed  to  think  the  owner  foolish.  Whatever 
else  these  Indians  are,  they  are  absolutely  honest. 


BRIGHT  AGAIN  299 

The  heavenly  weather  of  the  Indian  Summer  was 
now  upon  us.  We  had  left  all  storms  and  frost  behind, 
and  the  next  day,  our  final  trouble,  the  lack  of  food, 
was  ended.  A  great  steamer  hove  in  sight — at  least 
it  looked  like  a  steamer — but,  steadily  coming  on,  it 
proved  a  scow  with  an  awning  and  a  stove  on  it.  The 
boys  soon  recognised  the  man  at  the  bow  as  William 
Gordon,  trader  at  Fort  McMurray.  We  hailed  him 
to  stop  when  he  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead,  and  he 
responded  with  his  six  sturdy  oarsmen;  but  such  was 
the  force  of  the  stream  that  he  did  not  reach  the  shore 
till  a  quarter-mile  below  us. 

"Hello,  boys,  what's  up?"  He  shouted  in  the 
brotherly  way  that  all  white  men  seem  to  get  when 
meeting  another  of  their  race  in  a  savage  land. 

"Had  an  upset  and  lost  all  our  food." 

"Ho!  that's  easy  fixed."  Then  did  that  generous 
man  break  open  boxes,  bales,  and  packages  and  freely 
gave  without  a  stint,  all  the  things  we  needed :  kettles, 
pans,  sugar,  oatmeal,  beans,  jam,  etc. 

"How  are  you  fixed  for  whiskey?"  he  asked,  opening 
his  own  private,  not-for-sale  supply. 

"We  have  none  and  we  never  use  it,"  was  the  reply. 
Then  I  fear  I  fell  very  low  in  the  eyes  of  my  crew. 

"Never  use  it!  Don't  want  it!  You  must  be  pretty 
damn  lonesome  in  a  country  like  this,"  and  he  seemed 
quite  unable  to  grasp  the  idea  of  travellers  who  would 
not  drink. 

Thus  the  last  of  our  troubles  was  ended.  Thence- 
forth the  journey  was  one  of  warm,  sunny  weather  and 
pleasant  travel.     Each  night  the  sun  went  down  in 


300  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

red  and  purple  fire;  and  each  morning  rose  in  gold 
on  a  steel-blue  sky.  There  was  only  one  bad  side  to 
this,  that  was  the  constant  danger  of  forest  fire.  On 
leaving  each  camp — we  made  four  every  day — I  put 
the  fire  out  with  plenty  of  water,  many  buckets.  Rob 
thought  it  unnecessary  to  take  so  much  trouble.  But 
great  clouds  of  smoke  were  seen  at  several  reaches 
of  the  river,  to  tell  how  dire  it  was  that  other  campers 
had  not  done  the  same. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 
WHEN  NATURE  SMILED 

It  scorns  a  law  that  every  deep  valley  must  he  next 
a  high  mountain.  Our  sorrows  ended  when  we  quit 
the  canyon,  and  then,  as  though  in  compensation,  na- 
ture crammed  the  days  with  the  small  joys  that  seem 
so  little  and  mean  so  much  to  the  naturalist. 

Those  last  few  days,  unniarrcd  of  the  smallest  hard- 
ship, were  one  long  pearl-string  of  the  things  I  came  for 
— the  chances  to  see  and  be  among  wild  life. 

Each  night  the  Coyote  and  the  Fox  came  rustling 
about  our  camp,  or  the  Weasel  and  Woodmouse  scram- 
bled over  our  sleeping  forms.  Each  morning  at  gray 
dawn,  gray  Wiskajon  and  his  mate — always  a  pair — 
came  wailing  through  the  woods,  to  flirt  about  the 
camp  and  steal  scraps  of  meat  that  needed  not  to  be 
stolen,  being  theirs  by  right.  Their  small  cousins,  the 
Chicadees,  came,  too,  at  breakfast  time,  and  in  our 
daily  travelling,  Ruffed  Grouse,  Ravens,  Pine  Gros- 
beaks, Bohemian  Chatterers,  Hairy  Woodpeckers. 
Shrikes,  Tree-sparrows,  Linnets,  and  Snowbirds  en- 
livened the  radiant  sunlit  scene. 

One  afternoon  I  heard  a  peculiar  note,  at  first  like 
the  "  cheepy-teet-teet"  of  the  Pine  Grosbeak,  only  louder 
and  more  broken,  changing  to  the  jingling  of  Black- 
birds in  spring,  mixed  with  some  Bluejay  "jay-jays" 

301 


302  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

and  a  Robin-like  whistle;  then  I  saw  that  it  came 
from  a  Northern  Shrike  on  the  bushes  just  ahead  of  us. 
It  flew  off  much  after  the  manner  of  the  Summer 
Shrike,  with  flight  not  truly  undulatory  nor  yet 
straight,  but  flapping  half  a  dozen  times — then  a  pause 
and  repeat.  He  would  dive  along  down  near  the 
ground,  then  up  with  a  fine  display  of  wings  and  tail 
to  the  next  perch  selected,  there  to  repeat  with  fresh 
variations  and  shrieks,  the  same  strange  song,  and 
often  indeed  sang  it  on  the  wing,  until  at  last  he  crossed 
the  river. 

Sometimes  we  rode  in  the  canoe,  sometimes  tramped 
along  the  easy  shore.  Once  I  came  across  a  Great 
Horned  Owl  in  the  grass  by  the  water.  He  had  a  fish 
over  a  foot  long,  and  flew  with  difficulty  when  he  bore 
it  off.  Another  time  I  saw  a  Horned  Owl  mobbed 
by  two  Wiskajons.  Spruce  Partridge  as  well  as  the 
Ruffed  species  became  common:  one  morning  some 
of  the  former  marched  into  camp  at  breakfast  time. 
Rob  called  them  " Chickens";  farther  south  they  are 
called  "Fool  Hens,"  which  is  descriptive  and  helps 
to  distinguish  them  from  their  neighbours — the  "Sage 
Hens."  Frequently  now  we  heard  the  toy-trumpeting 
and  the  clack  of  the  Pileated  Woodpecker  or  Cock-of 
the-Pines,  a  Canadian  rather  than  a  Hudsonian  species. 
One  day,  at  our  three  o'clock  meal,  a  great  splendid 
fellow  of  the  kind  gave  us  a  thrill.  "Clack-clack- 
clack"  we  heard  him  coming,  and  he  bounded  through 
the  air  into  the  trees  over  our  camp.  Still  uttering 
his  loud  "Clack-clack-clack,"  he  swung  from  tree  to 
tree  in  one  long  festoon  of  flight,  spread  out  on  the  up- 


WHEN   X  AIT  UK   SMILED  303 

swoop  like  an  enormous  black  butterfly  with  white- 
starred  wings.  "Clack-clack-clack,"  he  stirred  the 
echoes  from  the  other  shore,  and  ignored  us  as  he 
swooped  and  clanged.  There  was  much  in  his  song 
of  the  Woodpecker  tang;  it  was  very  nearly  the  spring- 
time "cluck-cluck"  of  a  magnified  Flicker  in  black; 
and  I  gazed  with  open  mouth  until 
he  thought  fit  to  bound  through 
the  air  to  another  woods.  This 
was  my  first  close  meeting  with 
the  King  of  the  Woodpeckers;  I 
long  to  know  him  better. 

Mammals,  too,  abounded,  but 
we  saw  their  signs  rather  than  Jf/flf  *-"'<trt^u? 
themselves,  for  most  are  noctur- 
nal. The  Redsquirrels,  so  scarce  Scatoiogy  of  Wolf 
last  spring,  were  quite  plentiful, 
and  the  beach  at  all  soft  places  showed  abundant  trace 
of  Weasels,  Chipmunks,  Foxes,  Coyotes,  Lynx,  Wolves, 
Moose,  Caribou,  Deer.  One  Wolf  track  was  of  special 
interest.  It  was  5J  inches  long  and  travelling  with  it 
was  the  track  of  a  small  Wolf;  it  vividly  brought  back 
the  days  of  Lobo  and  Blanca,  and  I  doubt  not  was  an- 
other case  of  mates;  we  were  evidently  in  the  range 
of  a  giant  Wolf  who  was  travelling  around  with  his 
wife.  Another  large  Wolf  track  was  lacking  the  two 
inner  toes  of  the  inner  hind  foot,  and  the  hind  foot 
pads  were  so  faint  as  to  be  lost  at  times,  although  the 
toes  were  deeply  impressed  in  the  mud.  This  probably 
meant  that  he  had  been  in  a  trap  and  was  starved 
to  a  skeleton. 


304  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

We  did  not  see  any  of  these,  but  we  did  see  the  post- 
graduate evidences  of  their  diet,  and  were  somewhat 
surprised  to  learn  that  it  included  much  fruit,  especi- 
ally of  the  uva-ursi.  We  also  saw  proof  that  they 
had  eaten  part  of  a  Moose;  probably  they  had  killed  it. 

Coyote  abounded  now,  and  these  we  saw  from  time 
to  time.    Once  I  tramped  up  within  thirty  feet  of  a 


Bear-berry,  or  Uva-ursi 

big  fellow  who  was  pursuing  some  zoological  studies 
behind  a  log.  But  again  the  incontrovertible — post- 
mortem— evidence  of  their  food  habits  was  a  surprise — 
the  bulk  of  their  sustenance  now  was  berries,  in  one  case 
this  was  mixed  with  the  tail  hairs — but  no  body  hairs 
— of  a  Chipmunk.  I  suppose  that  Chipmunk  escaped 
minus  his  tail.  There  was  much  evidence  that  all 
those  creatures  that  can  eat  fruit  were  in  good  condi- 
tion, but  that  flesh  in  its  most  accessible  form — rab- 
bits— was  unknown,  and  even  next  best  thing — the 
mice — were  too  scarce  to  count;  this  weighed  with 
especial  force  on  the  Lynxes;  they  alone  seemed  unable 
to  eke  out  with  fruit.  The  few  we  saw  were  starving 
and  at  our  camp  of  the  28th  we  found  the  wretched 
body  of  one  that  was  dead  of  hunger. 


WHEN  NATURE  SMILED  305 

On  that  same  night  we  liad  a  curious  adventure  with 
a  Weasel. 

All  were  sitting  around  the  camp-fire  at  bed-time, 
when  I  heard  a  distinct  patter  on  the  leaves.  "Some- 
thing coming,"  I  whispered.  All  held  still,  then  out 
of  the  gloom  came  bounding  a  snow-white  Weasel. 
Preble  was  lying  on  his  back  with  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  head  and  the  Weasel  fearlessly  jumped  on 
my  colleague's  broad  chest,  and  stood  peering  about. 

In  a  flash  Preble's  right  elbow  was  down  and  held 
the  Weasel  prisoner,  his  left  hand  coming  to  assist. 
Now,  it  is  pretty  well  known  that  if  you  and  a  Weasel 
grab  each  other  at  the  same  time  he  has  choice  of  holds. 

"I  have  got  him,"  said  Preble,  then  added  feelingly, 
"but  he  got  me  first.  Suffering  Moses!  the  little  cuss 
is  grinding  his  teeth  in  deeper." 

The  muffled  screaming  of  the  small  demon  died  away 
as  Preble's  strong  left  hand  crushed  out  his  life,  but  as 
long  as  there  was  a  spark  of  it  remaining,  those  desper- 
ate  jaws  were  grinding  deeper  into  his  thumb.  It 
seemed  a  remarkably  long  affair  to  us,  and  from  time 
to  time,  as  Preble  let  off  some  fierce  ejaculation,  one  of 
us  would  ask,  "Hello!  Are  you  two  still  at  it,"  or, 
"How  arc  you  and  your  friend  these  times,  Preble?" 

In  a  few  minutes  it  was  over,  but  that  creature  in 
his  fury  seemed  to  have  inspired  himself  with  lock-jaw, 
for  his  teeth  were  so  driven  in  and  double-locked,  that 
I  had  to  pry  the  jaws  apart  before  the  hand  was  free. 

The  Weasel  may  now  be  seen  in  the  American  Mu- 
seum, and  Preble  in  the  Agricultural  Department  at 
Washington,  the  latter  none  the  worse. 


306  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

So  wore  away  the  month,  the  last  night  came,  a 
night  of  fireside  joy  at  home  (for  was  it  not  Hallow- 
e'en ?),  and  our  celebration  took  the  form  of  washing, 
shaving,  mending  clothes,  in  preparation  for  our  land- 
ing in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 
THE  END 

All  that  night  of  Hallowe'en,  a  Partridge  drummed 
near  my  untented  couch  on  the  balsam  boughs.  What 
a  glorious  sound  of  woods  and  life  triumphant  it  seemed; 
and  why  did  he  drum  at  night?  Simply  because  he 
had  more  joy  than  the  short  fall  day  gave  him  time  to 
express.  He  seemed  to  be  beating  our  march  of  victory, 
for  were  we  not  in  triumph  coming  home?  The  gray 
firstlight  came  through  the  trees  and  showed  us  lying 
each  in  his  blanket,  covered  with  leaves,  like  babes  in 
the  woods.  The  gray  Jays  came  wailing  through  the 
gloom,  a  faroff  Cock-of-thc-Pines  was  trumpeting  in 
the  lovely,  unplagued  autumn  woods;  it  seemed  as 
though  all  the  very  best  things  in  the  land  were  assem- 
bled and  the  bad  things  all  left  out,  so  that  our  final 
memories  should  have  no  evil  shade. 

The  scene  comes  brightly  back  again,  the  sheltering 
fir-clad  shore,  the  staunch  canoe  skimming  the  river's 
tranquil  reach,  the  water  smiling  round  her  bow,  as 
we  push  from  this,  the  last  of  full  five  hundred  camps. 

The  dawn  fog  lifts,  the  river  sparkles  in  the  sun,  we 
round  the  last  of  a  thousand  headlands.  The  little 
frontier  town  of  the  Landing  swings  into  view  once 
more — what  a  metropolis  it  seems  to  us  now! — The 
Ann  Seton  lands  at  the  spot  where  six  months  ago  she 

307 


308  THE  ARCTIC  PRAIRIES 

had  entered  the  water.  Now  in  quick  succession  come 
the  thrills  of  the  larger  life — the  letters  from  home,  the 
telegraph  office,  the  hearty  good-bye  to  the  brave  river- 
boys,  and  my  long  canoe-ride  is  over. 

I  had  held  in  my  heart  the  wanderlust  till  it  swept 
me  away,  and  sent  me  afar  on  the  back  trail  of  the 
north  wind;  I  have  lived  in  the  mighty  boreal  forest, 
with  its  Red-men,  its  Buffalo,  its  Moose,  and  its 
Wolves;  I  have  seen  the  Great  Lone  Land  with  its 
endless  plains  and  prairies  that  do  not  know  the  face  of 
man  or  the  crack  of  a  rifle ;  I  have  been  with  its  count- 
less lakes  that  re-echo  nothing  but  the  wail  and  yodel 
of  the  Loons,  or  the  mournful  music  of  the  Arctic 
Wolf.  I  have  wandered  on  the  plains  of  the  Musk-ox, 
the  home  of  the  Snowbird  and  the  Caribou.  These 
were  the  things  I  had  burned  to  do.  Was  I  content f 
Content !  !  Is  a  man  ever  content  with  a  single  sip  of 
joy  long-dreamed  of? 

Four  years  have  gone  since  then.  The  wanderlust 
was  not  stifled  any  more  than  a  fire  is  stifled  by  giving 
it  air.  I  have  taken  into  my  heart  a  longing,  given 
shape  to  an  ancient  instinct.  Have  I  not  found  for 
myself  a  kingdom  and  become  a  part  of  it?  My  reason 
and  my  heart  say,  "Go  back  to  see  it  all."  Grant  only 
this,  that  I  gather  again  the  same  brave  men  that 
manned  my  frail  canoe,  and  as  sure  as  life  and  strength 
continue  I  shall  go. 


3  1205  01918  5618 


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